Self Proclaimed Hero
by SavL7
Summary: "You act as a child where heroes defeat the villains, but have you ever consider there are no villains in this fable." Based off of current world news.  Rated M for violence, language, and yaoi. Rusame USUK FrUK USJapan RusChina
1. Chapter 1

Current Events

a/n: This is my first Hetalia fanfic so hopefully the characters are in character. I made up Afghanistan and his human name because I couldn't find it in the hetalia wiki, so I hope you like him. Also this is rated m, but it is not rated m for smut. There is no sex in this. I've never written yaoi before, so I'm taking it slowly lol. I won't lie I had fun with this because I took all things that are happening currently and threw them in ^^ . There are probably spelling and grammar mistakes, but ill look at them later. Finally I don't own APH or the characters in it.

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><p>He held his arms high in the air as he laughed victoriously. The cheers, loud music, and sounds of confetti exploded around him. He heard his name being chanted in a slow rhythmic way and it made him feel like a super hero…well he was a hero!<p>

"U.S.A. U.S.A. U.S.A!" the chanting continued and finally brought down his hands as he opened his eyes wide with a large grin. He stared down at all his boys in uniform. He felt so proud of them. The 21st century had been a difficult one on America and his people. The recession that the world blamed on him, the two wars, and the political polarization of his people was almost exhausting, but Alfred was the hero. He could handle anything! He could win anything. His mind didn't even focus on the Iraq war they had withdrawn from. No, he wasn't focus there. A hero never lost. He was focus on Afghanistan.

He would get Afghanistan all fixed up and everything would be good. As the idea popped into his head he was reminded of the country beside him. America slammed his hand onto the countries back in an enthusiastic pat. Afghanistan was shorter than America, but his shoulders were broader and more define. But the actual muscular form was hidden under the long beige shirt-dress thing he wore. America wasn't sure why the men wore dresses here, something about the heat. Afghanistan also wore a turban that covered his dessert like brown hair and had newly forming beard on his chin. He seemed to be chewing something, even though his mouth was empty, not noticing the pat or just caring enough to notice. America could never figure out if Afghanistan was pleased or angry because his mouth only made that movement of chewing. There was no smile or frown. But for that reason Alfred thought the man was pleased. Who wouldn't be if they had a hero to help them?

"America," the shorter man said in a deep voice, "I must go. I have prayer."

"What? You've already done that four times today! Besides you're going to miss the party!" he said swinging his hands toward his boys in uniform that filled the make shift stadium they made for the event. Lady Gaga had agreed to come and sing for the soldiers and while Alfred could admit she was a little intense he costumes were freakin awesome! His men continued to cheer as his flag waved brightly across the giant screen behind him.

The man next to him grunted in annoyance. "America, I must go," he said then turned away and walked off the stage.

Alfred frowned as his eyes watched the tan man walk away. How could anyone turn down a party? His party? He tried not to let it effect him as he walked up to the mike in center stage. "Howdy hommies!" he shouted into the mike, hearing it echo. All of his men continued to cheer. "I gotcha something special for all your great work," he paused for a moment, "Have I told you how awesome you all are? Cause you're awesome," he said with a grin pointing his hands at the crowd.

"Anyways let's get the true star out here. Lady Gaga!" he shouted and the crowd went wild. As soon as he shouted her name music started playing the lights started making colors. Alfred knew it was his que to get off, but he stood there taking in how happy his men were. He loved to see them happy. He loved feeling his people happy. It had felt so long since he had felt it. He grinned then walked off the stage area as the blond in some feather costume appeared from above him. Lady Gaga was so cool. He already had gotten her autograph fifty five times, but another one wouldn't hurt. He just had to wait until after her performance. Awesome! But why had Afghanistan been such a buzz kill? It was almost as bad as hanging out with Iggy.

He tried not letting it bother him as he turned back to the performance. "You did quite great out there, Alfred," he heard a female voice as a hand patter him lightly on the back. He turned and saw Mrs. Clinton, the Secretary of State. He didn't have problem with Clinton, she was pleasant even though he saw the uncomfortable power hunger in her eyes. Condie was more chilllaxed, but Clinton was still nice. He did enjoy his new boss quite a lot. He was always so amazed by his speeches and determination at such a young age. He missed Bush and there hang outs over beers, but he knew Obama had a plan. Obama actually reminded him a lot of Reagan, but of course on different party lines, but the big imagination and dream was there. It was the same in Reagan. He was so lucky to live an awesome democracy where his bosses continued to change and surprise him. He hoped Afghanistan would have it as well.

"I do my job well, sir…miss…mam," he stuttered out the last bit.

Clinton chuckled lightly, but Alfred could see something more calculating going on behind her eyes. "I was talking to General McKiernan. He thinks it's a bit odd that Afghanistan decided to leave so abruptly."

Alfred snorted, "Yeah he had to pray or somethin'. He's missing out though. I mean look! She's like dangling up in the air!" he said point to Lady Gaga.

"Yes quite talented," Clinton commented quickly, "We were actually hoping you could follow him, Alfred."

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he continued to watch the intense performance. "What you mean like spy?" he asked.

"No…more like have a friendly chat. We have been here for almost ten years, Alfred, we want to make sure are friends are still friends," she responded.

Alfred turned to face the older blond wearing knit wear in this heat. "Of course, he's our friend that's why were saving him," Alfred said with a grin, "But I can do that." He nodded.

"Perfect," she responded with a grin that matched her husbands, or his old boss.

"No problem," he ended with a thumbs up and headed off the back stage area towards the exit. He bummed about missing Gaga, but Clinton wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important.

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><p>He pulled on the collar of his white button down shirt trying to get some fresh air in. The sun had gone down, but it was still blistering hot. He left his bomber jacket at his hotel room, so he walked around with his sleeves rolled to his elbow and his pants sticking to his legs from sweat. Why couldn't the celebration been held near the mountains or in the mountains! Why did have to be closer to the dreadful dessert? His pistol in his waistband even rubbed awkwardly against his side. He was still within the green zone, but he was coming to the edge of it. You could never be too careful.<p>

Why couldn't Shah (Afghanistan) have just stayed in his hotel room? It made no sense to prayer all the way out here in a hookah bar. When he finally reached the wooden door, his hand went to the doorframe. He had to take in some cleaning breaths so he didn't look like a mess. He was the hero he couldn't be looking like a sweaty pig. With that few moments of recollecting himself he put on a grin and slammed opened the door. The small room went silent as the other Afghan people looked at him with bewilderment and then slight annoyance as the smoke that had been hotboxed into the room tunneled out of him. He wasn't fully prepared for the barrage of smoke and started coughing. It wasn't that he hated smoke, back in the fifties he was smoking a pack a day, but when different flavors hit the back of your mouth at the same time it can make anyone hack.

He shut the door behind him as he continued to cough, still feeling the staring eyes on him until they eventually went back to their conversations.

"Shit," he heard a deep monotone voice comment from the far back.

"Hey-ca ca," he coughed through his words, "Shah, ca wh-at are ya doin' here?" He let out a sigh as he finally gained control of himself and looked up towards where he heard the voice. He froze.

There in the corner of the room sitting at a small table across from Afghanistan was Russia.

"Hello America," Russia said with a smile implanted on his face as he gave a small wave.

What. The. Fuck?

"What the hell is he doing here!" he shouted as he stormed across the small room, causing the hookahs to shake on the tables from vibration. The outburst caused a few of the other people in the room to leave, but Alfred didn't care about them at the moment. He cared about the man with the scarf. How the hell was he wearing a scarf in this weather? At least he didn't have the bulky jacket or Alfred would really start to question things…though he couldn't understand how Russia was wearing a long sleeve shirt and not sweating at all.

"No, hello America? That is awfully, how do you put it…rude," Russia said with an innocent expression as he folded his hands on his laps.

"I'm not talking to you," he growled facing Shah again.

Shah face seemed expressionless as he brought the hookah pipe to his lips. The tan man took in a deep breath causing America's fist to tighten. He hated being ignored. Shah then breathed out the smoke slowly as he spoke, "Russia and I were merely discussing his plans to help us rebuild."

"Help you what? I'm helping you. You don't need his help. Beside he invaded you before, how could you even trust him!" Alfred shouted.

"I didn't invade him, America," Russia smiled, "I was merely handling a security threat."

America shot Russia a glare. He could frame that anyway he wanted, but America knew the truth.

"If I recall," Shah said, almost bored, "You have invaded me currently, and I hold little grudge against you for it. So I will not be so quick to turn away Russia's helping hand."

"I didn't invade you!" he found himself throwing his arms in the air, "I'm helping you. I'm helping you get rid of the Taliban and become a democracy!"

He heard small chuckle and shot a glare at Russia. "It's quite humorous, Da?" the Russian replied, "Wasn't it you, America, who put the Taliban in control?"

America's eye widened at the comment. They had given the Taliban weapons, but it was to stop Russia! "We were stopping you, you stupid commie!" he said pointing a finger at Russia.

"Hypocrite, Da?" Russia nodded with a smile, "You are still as naïve as before, America. I only want to help Afghanistan as a sign of less tense times."

"If you wanted to help you would have joined the NATO forces and helped us fight against the terrorist," Alfred said leaning over the small table. After the Cold War had ended they shook hands and went their separate ways…well after America gloated for a moment or two. He didn't hate Russia, but he didn't like him either. During the Bush administration the tension had increased slightly, with Russia's invasion of Georgia. He was still trying to take over the world, but his new Boss had told him they were starting on a new leaf. They would not let the tensions of the past ruin future ties. Even though, his boss stressed better relationship, Alfred always felt an underlying untrustworthiness from Russia. Look what he's doing right now! He was going behind his back! Russia was getting back to his old tricks, and it infuriated him.

He disliked that fake childish voice Russia spoke with often. It was taunting and itched at his skin. He had heard his voice break out of characters many times during their decades of tension. He almost always looked forward to angering the Russian just so he could hear the real voice.

"I'm handling the terrorist in a different way," Russia stated, his voice flattening only a bit. America had heard of the increase security after the Moscow attacks. "But I digress," he said in a happier tone, "I'm here to help Afghanistan and if you are not pleased by that America, there is nothing I can do."

Alfred glared at Russia before whipping his head to Afghanistan. "You can't seriously be taking help from this madman."

Shah took a drag from the hookah pipe, once again making the silence drag out until he blew out the smoke. "I have been around for a long time, but I have never seen my fellow nations fall to their own people so quickly and swiftly. I must make my people happy and as a beggar, I cannot choose where I get my help," Shah's eyes gave him a slight glare that obviously meant America's help wasn't by his choice either, but America didn't read it that way.

"Those nations aren't fallen. The people are throwing out their bad leader," America justified the protest, "Those people want democracy!"

"You miss my point, America," the man spoke as he put the pipe back into his mouth.

"I feel that I am interrupting," Russia said as he stood from the small table. Alfred had to take a step back forgetting how large the man was. "I will be on my way. We will work out details on another time, طابت ليلتكم" the last words were foreign to Alfred, but he knew it was Arabic. The amount of time he had been spending in the Middle East was starting to expand his languages…barely.

The large Russian walked passed him without even a farewell. Alfred frowned, "Russia, I'm not through talking with you!" Russia ignored him and walked out the door. Alfred brought his eyes down to Shah who was just staring at the hookah absently. "I promise, you don't need his help. I'll prove it to you, but I have to deal with him first. I promise though. I can help you in anyway you need. I'm the hero, that's what heroes do," he said with a grin and only received a nod.

America grin got larger and headed out the door to find Russia. Luckily he was so focused on his fury with the Russian he missed Afghanistan's last words to him. "We are all merely pawns of the west, played on a board of chess that is doomed to crumple beneath us. So unfortunate," the Afghan man then took a depressed drag of the hookah and let the smoke encompass him.

"Russia!" he shouted, as his head whipped around like a drug addict in search of his dealer. He only saw a few people walking the dirt barely lit street. Where the hell did he go?

"Капиталистические свиньи, there is no reason to shout. I am right here," he heard Russia's voice to the side and quickly turned his body to see the man leaning on the edge of the small building they had just left. The man still had that annoying smile on.

"Don't think I don't know what's going on. France just stupidly sold you warships, you're helping Afghanistan, and not to mention, your economy wasn't as hurt as the rest of ours!" he said, narrowing his eyes as he walked towards the Russian, "If you even think any of us are going to allow you to expand again, you're dreaming. You lost the Soviet Union because of your own failed policies."

He watched that fake smile falter for only a moment, revealing the briefest of frowns. Russia's arms were crossed across his chest before he chuckled. "Oh Америка, I have forgotten the unsettling paranoia you can have. France has sold me the warships out of celebration of us strengthening our connections. You know as well as me, France does enjoy giving gifts. As for Afghanistan, is it so terrible that I wish to be a hero too?" he said with an innocent hurt expression.

"You can't be the hero!" he shouted.

"I believe I was talking," Russia continued, "The economy had nothing to do with me. I was merely smart and saw the downfall of your greedy selfish ways. While globalization has forced us to stick our hand in the filth you call capitalism, it has not drowned us yet."

"It's not filth! Capitalism is awesome, and it beat out your stupid communism. So we had a bump, we've come out of it! We're getting even stronger!" he said, though he stretched the truth slightly. They weren't out of the recession, but Alfred was determined they would be. He would heal his country.

"Я вижу, вы все еще живут в этом мире смешно фантазия ваша. Я возьму большое удовольствие, когда он разрушает вокруг вас," Russia spoke to him in that dreadful language. Alfred caught a few words in there, but he couldn't make out the full statement. He did know one thing: it was an insult.

"Speak English if you want to talk to me," he said stepping closer in frustration.

He saw Russia's eye roll before he stated, "I'm curious to know how you feel as your world power position slowly slips through your grips. Does it upset you to know that European Union is falling apart as the debt suffocates them? Does it cause you fear to know that it will happen to you? Your selfish people spend beyond their means causing the world to suffer and you only follow suit. What will you do when China ask for his money? What will you do when China becomes the super power?"

Alfred couldn't exactly describe his feelings at the moment as Russia pulled out some of his greatest fears. He knew he was feeling something pass anger…something close to hate. So he wasn't surprised when his body reacted on his own. He punched Russia hard in the face watching the guy fall to the ground. America might have lost creditability with the world after the economic crisis, but it didn't mean America wasn't a super power. He did pick up a buffalo when he was only a year old. Of course, Russia was strong as well, which explained why the man hadn't gone flying into the next building. Alfred looked down at Russia and saw the man cough up blood into the dirt. "I've been wanting to do that since July 16, 1945," America said with a huff.

He watched as Russia wiped his mouth then pushed himself off the ground. He still had that annoying smile on his face. "I thought you could to better then that, Америка. My turn," he stated and before Alfred could even blink a fist hit him hard in the cheek causing him to fall a few steps back. It hurt, and he swore he felt his jaw crack. That bastrad! He stopped himself from falling back and immediately pushed himself into a run as he tackled Russia onto the ground. He heard the bigger man let out a grunt, but barely paid attention. Alfred was furious. Russia had been taunted and pushing him for almost half a century. He was America! He didn't deserve such nonsense, and he began pounding in Russia face. He saw blood, and he preferred it that way. He felt bone against his fist. He felt his own fist start to bleed, but the sickening sound made him continue. He didn't know what he wanted from this, but it felt good. It felt like fifty years of tension coming to the surface.

A strong grip grabbed one of his wrists and forcefully pulled him off. Alfred landed on his back feeling a rock slam into his spin. It hurt, but he looked up and saw Russia now looming over him with his pipe. Where the hell did he keep that thing? He wasn't wearing his jacket! "Silly little Америка, do you really think a few blows to the face will hurt me," he asked as he balanced his pipe in his hand.

Alfred didn't answer. He pulled out his gun from his waistband without a second thought and pointed it up at the man, clicking it into place. "A bullet to the face might," he said deadly.

Russia's smile finally left his face as the two continued to glare at one another. This felt similar to the Cuban Missile Crisis: neither one wanted to swallow their pride, but neither wanted to get hurt either. The tension felt encompassing, almost more suffocating then the dessert heat. His eyes focused on Russia's violet ones. He never understood how such a kind soft color could go on such a cruel man. The only thing that pulled his eyes away was the sound of metal against ground. He watched as Russia held up his empty hands innocently, followed by the smile. Alfred couldn't help smirking. He won again. The hero always won! He brought down his gun, but as soon as it was lowered he felt a boot kick his face hard causing him to drop the weapon all together. He groaned in pain as he heard in the distance his gun being pushed far away. His hand had flown to his face trying to consol the pain, but being kicked was far from a pleasurable experience. He tasted iron in his mouth and moved his jaw feeling a sharp pain traveling back. Damn it.

Something heavy sat down on his waist, which caused his eyes to jerk open only to be met by violet. "You are quite frisky, Alfred," Russia said, bringing the pipe towards his throat. He must have picked it up when he was distracted by the pain.

"Don't call me that," he hissed before spitting the blood in his mouth on Russia's crisp shirt.

A hand grabbed his chin forcing it to look up at him. It caused that sharp pain to attack him. "I will call you whatever I like," the Russian stated darkly.

Alfred glared at the man. He wanted to kill him. He swung his fist out, but it was caught this time by Russia. "Not as strong as we thought we were, Da?" he said with a creepy smile. Damn it, if he wasn't dealing with the recession he wouldn't have any difficulties pushing Russia off. It was probably similar to watching to water against a giant bolder.

"Get off of me," he said coldly, his eyes darting around the street to see if anyone was around, but their fight had somehow put them into the small alleyway between the two homes. It also was hard to see anything when it got this dark.

"Nyet, I think I enjoy the mighty America in such a useless state," he taunted.

That's it! Alfred started struggling again, but felt the pipe being pushed down on his throat. His air was being limited, and he was forced to stop moving.

"You're not going to kill me, Russia, so why don't you get off of me and we can be on our way," he muttered through the limited air source. He wasn't begging or fearing for his life. He was just annoyed with the entire situation. He also didn't enjoy the way Russia's eyes were traveling along his body. They seemed to be observing his every reaction.

"Я ненавижу тебя," was the Russain's only response, which only caused Alfred to give that annoyed confused look again. Was it so much effort to speak English? But before that thought could even settle in his mind he felt a pair of lips against his.

His eyes widened in horror as Russia's fingers went into his hair and pulled him into a deeper kiss. What the hell was going on? He didn't quite understand because strangely Russia's lips didn't taste of evil, but of snowflakes. With how hot it was, he almost wanted to deepen the kiss himself, but had to remind himself who was on top of him. This wasn't Japan after a friendly hang out of video games, or England after a night at the bar. This was Russia. Why the hell was Russia kissing him?

He felt Russia chest rub against his own and the friction against his hips was causing a hot feeling to settle inside of him. No. This was not happening. He tried to struggle, but his body stood frozen in shock and horror. Luckily, Russia pulled away with a slightly confused expression on his face as well. Of course, it disappeared behind his mask of emotions. "I apologize," he said while he got off of Alfred, pipe in hand.

Alfred wanted to say something witty or smart like 'Ya you better be!' or no…something cool…something a hero would say, but his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

"I must make my flight. It was nice having this friendly chat," Russia said in that fake voice then walked away from him.

Even after Russia left him alone in between the two houses, America continued to lay on the ground completely and utterly confused. The man he loathed for half a century, the man who constantly mocked him had just kissed him. What made it all more confusing was that the only thing America could think of was when it would happen again.

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><p>Translations: I'm not sure if they're correct. I just found them online.<p>

طابت ليلتكم–Good night

Капиталистические свиньи –capitalist pig

Я вижу, вы все еще живут в этом мире смешно фантазия ваша. Я возьму большое удовольствие, когда он разрушает вокруг вас - I see you are still living in that ridiculous fantasy world of yours. I will take great enjoyment when it shatters around you.

Я ненавижу тебя- I hate you.

This is a one shot.

Random current and historic facts: France just recently sold two warships to Russia for 1.6 billion dollars. Many republican politicians are furious at Frances choices especially with Russia and China's increasing strength.

Russia is currently in discussions with Afghanistan over how to help them rebuild. Russia plans to give Afghanistan money and resources to rebuild the destruction in the areas Russia had invaded during their war. NATO finds this appalling because Russia has not send in any military or supplies for the current war in Afghanistan.

When Afghanistan is talking to America about falling countries he is talking about the riots and protest going on around the Middle East. Particularly Libya, Syria, Egypt, and Tunsia.

The date America mentions is the first meeting after World War II ended. The Potsdam Conference.

Condi is in reference to Condoleezz Rice. The Secretary of State during the Bush administration.

Side note: I hope it doesn't come off that Russia and the US are ignoring each other. They're not. Obama and Medvedev have agreed to have a fresh start. The reason Alfred gets easily agitated by Russia is because not all the people in the US trust Russia nor are they will to make stronger ties with Russia. As seen by a lot of citizens uproar over France. So remember Alfred is not just based on the President's feelings towards another country, but the people of the entire country. Russia's people also are not fully trustworthy of the US. Something like 75% of Russians believe the US abuses their power. So again while leaders might be getting along it does not mean the countries themselves are getting along. So I hope I cleared that up!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Ivan sat in a large leather chair next to the window. He cradled his chin in one hand as his other hand tapped lightly on the armrest. His eyes were focused outside at his land; he barely paid attention to the rain clouds crawling across the sky or the wind pushing against the trees. It was summer meaning rain instead of snow. Weather wasn't on his mind though. He sighed as he closed his eyes in irritation. He used to love his large house that held his satellite states. He wasn't alone, but now the big empty house that creaked with the wind only reminded him how painfully of his situation. He knew who was to blame, but he was beyond such childish antics.

He wasn't like that blue-eyed full grown child. He frowned beneath his hand as the image of him popped into his mind, his large smile and golden locks that seemed to match the sun. They seemed warm. His frown deepened. He disliked America. America was a toddler with a gun swinging it randomly just to grab at a piece of candy, and when the baby didn't get what he wanted he threw a tantrum. Immature. Utterly immature. He still couldn't comprehend what happened in Afghanistan. Ivan was offering his help and the American's response was to punch him.

Ivan couldn't help the small smirk that appeared on his face. He did enjoy hearing the pain in America's grunts. He enjoyed the sound of blood on the back of his throat. It was about time someone scolded the child for misbehaving. England had failed miserably so someone needed to take the initiative. After the half century he had played the strategic game of chess with America, he was amazed physical violence hadn't occurred sooner. He didn't even care that his nose was broken and a white bandaged that matched his hair was placed on top of it. It would heal in a few days (nations quick healing abilities), but America's pride would take years to heal. Yes, he enjoyed that fact very much.

He wondered silently how America would react to his actions of helping Germany bail out Greece. He was surprised America hadn't mentioned it. Did he not pay attention world affairs until it was staring him straight in the face? Probably. Russia had all right to increase his influences around the world. Ivan might be old, but he knew that globalization was making the world smaller. He would not be contained as the world continued to shrink. He would strengthen his trade and then the countries would be reliant on him.

Trade…

The World Trade Organization had yet to accept them. He personally disliked being a part of any organization that retrieved the majority of their funds from America, but he understood the benefit. Putin had stressed that to him, and while Putin was no longer his boss per say Ivan still listened to him as if he were. He sat straighter pulling his hand away from his mouth. His eyes turned to the large empty living room and locked on his liquor cabinet.

America was the only one preventing them from being accepted, and while America's boss seemed very supportive of the action, the rest of his people in his democracy did not appear to happy. Ivan rolled his eyes at that thought as he stood up from his chair. America had such little control of himself. He was so inefficient in the way he allowed his people to change his policy on a whim. The reason he lost in Iraq (though he knew America would never see it as a lost) was because he lacked the unity of his people's opinion and it made his military strategies weak. While Ivan also was a democracy his people respected their leader's positions. Not all, but most. America had little respect.

He slid open the cabinet to reveal his selection of vodkas. He grabbed a large glass and a bottle of his best. He unscrewed the lid with little thought. Most would say it was too early to be drinking, but Russia's mind had been dancing around a subject he didn't want to think about. He was hoping to drown it out before it even came up.

He just needed to remind himself how rude, inconsiderate, paranoid, selfish, hypocritical….strong...determined….

He closed his eyes as his fist tightened around his glass. He shot back the quarter full glass into his mouth, not even noticing the burn down his throat. He hated America, but he respected America's power. That was it. He wished he had such influence. He would never be alone with that amount of influence.

He brought the glass back down to the cabinet as he began pouring more vodka. When the glass reached half full he brought it to his lips…his lips that had touched…

He shot back the liquor. He shouldn't think of America. America was a falling empire and Russia would take his place afterwards…he would have dealt with China, but he was still on good terms with China. He actually was becoming on quite good terms with most nations. Ivan had seen what Germany had done. Even after losing two world wars in attempts to take over Europe, Germany managed to gain control over Europe through the European Union. It was clever. He put away the tanks and brought out the pen and paper. He managed to sign Europe under his control. Though France held quite a large amount of the power as well, it was still quite an impressive move. He wondered if Germany had planned that from the beginning. No, unlikely.

But Ivan now understood the way of this new world. It was not fighting through weapons and large planes or tanks. It was through diplomatic influence.

America had managed to link the world together with his disgusting burgers, but Ivan would surpass him. Ivan would spread Russian culture around the world.

His phone rang, and he awoke from his thoughts. He turned to the side and as he passed his fireplace he left his glass and bottle on top of it. He found his cell phone next to the chair he had been sitting in. He took a quick glance then flipped it open.

"Da?" he asked with a sweet voice and a smile that came easier with the vodka slowly dripping though his system.

"Hello Ivan, did you receive the email I sent you?" his boss spoke over the phone.

"Da, America's President has given us his support for our entry to the World Trade Organizations. It is quite great news," he said almost giddily but it darkened quickly, "I would stress that his support means little to us. We have been delayed for an unreasonable amount of time."

"I agree, which is the exact reason we are meeting with him, some key members of their congress, and of course, America. I need you to sell this to America," Medvedev stated clearly.

"Ah," was Ivan's only response. The idea of trying to sell something to America or to try to gain the man's acceptance disgusted him. He should not be coddling the country like the rest of the world.

"You know very well that if we can get America's approval our economy will increase and we open more interactions with other countries. Russia needs this," his boss responded. He didn't like the joyousness within his boss's tone. He was quite liberal and open to the western world, but he reminded himself that Putin trusted him and therefore he would as well.

"Da, when do we leave?" he asked.

"The meeting is set up for next Thursday," he stated and then there was a pause before it was followed with, "Ivan, I must remind you that we will not respond with violence in any form, no matter your annoyance of Alfred Jones."

He flinched at hearing America's human name. He had never heard any of his bosses speak the name before. It was almost taboo, but he understood Medvedev's statement. His boss knew where his broken nose came from. He had heard of the little shuffle that had occurred, but nothing drastic had come of it. America, of course, couldn't do anything to stop Russia help to Afghanistan, nor would he if he could.

"Da," he said again.

"Since that's in order, I will be off. Good day, Ivan," he stated and then he heard the phone click.

Ivan pulled the phone away from his ear as he stared numbly out the window again. He would have to spend a day talking to America. It was similar to banging ones head against the wall.

He needed another drink.

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><p>Alfred sat in the long black limo with bulletproof glass with a glazed look. He had been doing legitimate work for hours! He should be at home right now, underneath his blankets playing a game of Fall Out. He shouldn't be being lectured by his boss. Blah. Blah. Blah. Was it even important? Alfred would do what he always did, be awesome! Done. It wasn't even hard for Alfred to be awesome. He just woke up in the morning and awesomeness hit him. He laughed at the idea of a big fuzzy blue, red, and white blob would squeeze him in a bear hug. (Yes, that is how he picture awesomeness, people.)<p>

"I would believe you are taking it quite well if I didn't know already that you're not listening," he heard his bosses deep soothing voice, and even though it had humor in it, there was a sense of rush in his tone. Obama always had it in his tone because always seemed to be busy. Alfred didn't understand why, but he guessed it was over his big dreams.

Alfred loved dreams. He loved reaching for the unimaginable and then creating it. There are no great limits to growth because there are no limits to human intelligence, imagination, and wonder. Reagan had told him that long ago, and Alfred held it close to heart. He would continue to seek out the impossible.

"Alfred," his boss stated with slight agitation.

"Oh, sorry what?" he turned to face the man with a confused look. When he saw the tired annoyed features on his bosses face, he grinned innocently. "I was thinkin' of that totally cool comeback you had a Trump. 'No ones happier to put the matter of the birth certificate to rest then Donald and that's because he can finally get back to focusing on the issues that matter. Like, did we fake the moon landing? What really happened in Roswell? And where are Biggie and Tupac?'" America started laughing loudly as he repeated his bosses joke from the Correspondent Dinner.

Alfred did love that joke. "His tope must have flown off in embarrassment," Alfred laughed harder. His random statement though went exactly like he planned. His bosses gave a small smile at him instead of scolding him for not listening. Awesome.

"It would be difficult for the tope to fall with the amount of cement glue he uses," his bosses smile got bigger as he added his own jibe but then it disappeared to his serious work expression, "Alfred, I need you to listen. Congress has been making every step I take difficult, so I need you to be on my side on this."

Alfred waved his hand in the air as if it were no big deal. "Pfft. Congress. No big. I can handle them. What's the issue I need to save?" he asked with a grin.

"We will be meeting with Russia and Medvedev to discuss the bill to fully normalize trade relations between us. It's the only thing currently preventing them into the WTO, and as I said before I want to reset our past," he stated.

Alfred eyes got larger at that information. He didn't want more Russian goods coming into his country. Russia was a manipulative country that's only goal was expansion. How could his boss actually trust anything that came out of that country?

"What? No. If Congress doesn't want to pass it, it is their choice. I have no sway over democracy's actions," he stated quickly, knowing that at least half of Congress would see how horrible this idea was. If they could hold the bill, maybe it would die.

He watched his boss sigh then rub his face before finally focusing back on him. "Alfred, you are the United States of America. We do not go out of our way to purposefully hurt or diminish another country's chance at success. We give our assistance because we have the power to do so. Are you saying you want to turn your back on Russia and if you are, does that mean you want to turn your back on the rest of the world?" he said with that same fierceness he saw when his boss spoke publically.

Alfred opened his mouth, but he couldn't come up with an argument. Instead he crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine. Let's help out Russia," he said turning away from his boss. "It's not like they really need help," he added in a mumble. If Russia had enough strength to mock him he had enough strength to take care of himself. Russia was very strong.

He shifted his jaw and felt slightly sore. There was a lingering bruise from the pipe that had been jammed into his jugular, but luckily the press had no interest in it. (Mostly because Clinton and Obama hid him from all cameras.)

"Thank you," his boss responded with a tinge of happiness, "We meet next Thursday."

Alfred merely rolled his eyes. Oh joy, that sounds wonderful. Maybe the Russian would give him another bruise!

…or kiss.

His cheeks got red immediately, and he shifted his form more towards the window. He had pushed that incident to the far depths of his mind. He still couldn't make logical sense of it, and while part of him wanted to call Iggy or Mattie, he couldn't. He felt embarrassed. He had allowed the Russian man to kiss him. But why?

The car stopped, and Alfred had little notice to it. His mind was now wrapped around the kiss. It was so aggressive and firm, but cold and soft. He also loved the feel of his fingers in his hair and how they pulled him closer. It was almost like the man was afraid of losing him in those short moments.

Losing him…

Alfred could never see a time when Russia would ever be out of his life. He had been such a large part of it for most of the twentieth century he could only see it continue.

Unfortunately.

Yes, that was the word to describe it. There wasn't a small part of him that was curious and wanted to explore the meaning behind the kiss. No, that explorer didn't exist. Alfred gulped uncomfortable as he repeated the thoughts to himself.

Thankfully he was saved when the limo door opened and two small girls entered in school uniform.

"Alfie!" they both shouted and tackled him. His carefree laughter took over as he hugged the girls, but the back of his mind kept wondering to the unspeakable.

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><p>an: There is a real bill going through congress and Russia is trying to enter the WTO and needs some support from the US if they don't want the process to be delayed for years. But next Thursday, nothing it going on lol. I just made up a day so russia and america could see eachother type thing. I'm just kind of going wherever this takes me. I know there are grammar mistake, and ill get those fixed. PS. I'm not a history buff. I just try to keep up with news. I hope I have nothing inaccurate, sorry if I do.

do not own characters


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

a/n: Thanks for the reviews! They are awesome. I'm glad people are liking the current events stuff. I'm going to be honest though, the current events I mention in this chapter will be the last of them. I will just continue to focus on these main issues that have been brought up in these three chapters. Mostly because if I continued then, there would be too much stuff going on. The World is a busy place. Of course I will drop in a few things here and there, but these events are the main focus. Anyways hope you like! And if you have ideas for titles throw them out...I'm sort of lost on one.

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><p>A ringing sounded next to his ear, and the Englishman groaned in annoyance. He closed his eyes tighter hoping the sound was merely in his dream and he could make it disappear with only a thought.<p>

The ringing continued, and he rolled over with an annoyed growl. His hand touched the tip of his nightstand to find the bloody phone. He didn't know why he planed to answer it. He already knew who would be on the line. The stupid git. His hand reached past his alarm clock, not even wanting to glance at the time. He finally felt his phone clicked the answer button.

"You better have a bloody good reason to be waking me at," he finally turned and opened his eyes to see the clock. They widened. "4:32 in the damn morning!" he shouted in anger. He really should turn his phone off at night. It was the logical solution to America's idiocy.

"What are you talking about, Iggy? It's only 11:32," the thickheaded American said from the phone.

Arthur groaned slapping his hand on his face out of habit of dealing with America. He was slightly surprised his palm hadn't imprinted. "You stupid git! We go through this every time! Time Zones, they exist. Now please just make this quick," he muttered in a tired voice. He had to get up in two hours to head to the European Council meeting. The meeting was already going to be tough because he planned to stand by his boss's plan of not funding in future bailouts to Greece. There was no reason for England to get involved. Greece was lazy and slept like his cats. If he saw Greece actually making initiatives maybe he would consider it, but the chances of that were as unlikely as Alfred remembering timezones. The frog was surely to throw a fit and Germany would be furious, but he didn't care. He didn't sign up for the euro. England was smarter then to hand his currency over to the whole of Europe. If the eurozone collapsed, it wouldn't hurt him. He would see economic effects, but his currency would not be ruined. The pound sterling would stay strong.

"Well…" America began slowly, but stopped, "Uh…actually it was nothing. I just got bored and decided it would be entertaining to wake you up." He heard loud laughter that caused him to visibly flinch. "You always are such a princess in the mornings," America continued with laughter.

Arthur's large eyebrows furrowed together as anger radiated over him. He wanted to shout at the fool, but he had known America for his entire life. He knew when the man was avoiding a topic. "Don't start with me! It's too bloody early. Tell me why you called or I'll hang up," he said threatening into the phone.

"I already told ya, Iggy. Gezz, you really need to take a chill pill in the morning…or wait you know there is this new five hour energy thing. It could help with you're mood swings. But honestly, I don't understand how it's morning there. It's like you're living in the future. If you're living in the future can you-"

Arthur ended the call and placed the phone back on his nightstand with a smile. He might care about America, but if the idiot didn't want to talk about his problem he wouldn't waste his precious sleep trying to pry it out of him. He would ask tomorrow when he was awake. Arthur turned on his side and gripped his pillow in a death grip. His smile grew as he imagined America still ranting into the phone like he was there, but then the phone rang.

He grimaced. He would just ignore it. He needed sleep. He gripped tighter onto the pillow trying to prevent himself from grabbing the phone. The rings taunted him. 'Pick me up. Pick me up. Pick me up," it said to his form. Arthur started shaking. He couldn't just ignore it. It was very improper, and Arthur was a proper gentleman. He growled out some mumbled curses and picked up the phone again. "What?" he shouted into the phone.

"Never mind, if you're just gonna be moody I'll call Mattie," he heard Alfred answer.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. It was too early for a migraine, but America managed it. While a large part of him just wanted to hang up, he couldn't. "Alfred," he said in a calmer voice, "What's so wrong that you felt you should call me so early?"

He heard shuffling in the phone, as if the American was pacing around his living room or fiddling with books…no never…possibly… "Do you think I should play Halo or Fall Out? Halo is so old though, but a good-"

Videogames! He was fiddling with videogames. "Alfred!" he shouted, loosing his temper again.

He heard a sigh on the other end. "Fine. My boss wants me to agree to normalize trade with Russia," the America finally admitted.

Arthur blinked.

He then pulled away the phone and clicked the end button, placing it back on the nightstand. How could that stupid git call him over something so ridiculous? The Cold War was thirty years ago. If he managed to get over the fact that Germany destroyed his precious capital two times, the fool could get over the tension between Russia and him.

The phone rang again. With an annoyed sigh he picked it up again.

"Hey, I think we got disconnected," Alfred said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "Did you catch what I said though?"

"Yes, you're being ridiculous! I'm surprised it's taken you this long to normalize trade with them," Arthur stated bitterly, as he rubbed his temples.

He knew by the silence on the other end that Alfred was pouting. "But I don't wanna," he said in an extremely childish voice that reminded him of when America was colony.

"Why?" he found himself asking for no reason. He hoped if he got to bottom of this soon he could go back to sleep.

"Because….because…it's Russia. I mean come on Iggy, the guy's a jerk."

Well Arthur could agree with Alfred there. Ivan definitely wasn't the nicest person in the world, but many nations weren't. "The Cold War is over Alfred. Move on, or did you start holding grudges?" he said as if he was trying to teach his child a lesson. It was strange how easily it was for Arthur to go into father mode with America, especially with their few physical relationships they had explored. The first before the Vietnam War, but then Arthur was reminded of how much of a bloody stupid git the boy was.

"But…uh gezz when did you start sounding like my boss," he heard Alfred sigh from the other end, "Fine. I'm overacting."

"When are you not," the Englishman muttered then said, "I'm going to bed now, and Alfred, nothing bad will come from it." He added the last part in a supportive manner.

"Okay. Okay. But when Russia acts like Russia, I'm going to tell you I told you so."

"Yes, of course," he said while rolling his eyes. He was about to hang up the phone when something occurred to him. His boss had wanted him to contact America. He wanted to wait until after the EC meeting, but since had him on the phone it was best to get it over with. "Alfred, I actually have been meaning to mention something to you," he said his voice still tired, but he tried to pull himself awake. This was an important issue.

"Ya, what's up?" Alfred asked.

"I'm certain you know that I am currently fighting with the rebellion against Gaddafi in Libya," he said starting off in a casual statement, "I have already stretched my men between your war in Afghanistan and now I'm reaching my limits. It has already cost me 500 million pounds and will probably reach a billion by the months end. I know you already have your own forces there, and I greatly appreciate it, but I need more support."

It went silent again on the other end. A rare moment to occur with America had happened twice tonight. He knew America was chewing over his words. While America could be a foolish immature brat sometimes, Arthur knew the man was quite intelligent. He had seen that focus look during both the World Wars. He remembered when London was being bombed on a daily basis. He was sitting outside the White House as Churchill discussed an increase shipment of supplies with Roosevelt. Arthur had his head buried in his hands as felt the pain of his country calling out for him. He was barely staying together. Francis had already lost, and he knew Germany planned to focus on him. He was so lost in depression that he didn't hear the American sitting next to him. He felt a light pat on his back that forced him to look up to see America's bright determined blue eyes and large grin. "Don't be sad, Iggy. I'm going to help you cause that's what heroes do, and I'm totally going to kick Ludwig's ass!" Alfred had said throwing his fist in the air. Arthur's response had been to roll his eyes. He knew that Alfred had become strong, but they were all suffering from the Great Depression. Germany had too much power and Japan was growing every day. Not to mention, America was already at the end of the war. He was coming in too late. If he had helped from the beginning…maybe…but no, not now. "Just you wait and see. Germany, Japan, and Italy are going down!" he shouted. When America had walked into their first big three meeting and announced his plan of being the hero, Arthur almost told him to go home and let the men handle things, but then America pulled out a map. (Amazingly enough not just a map of the United States.) He pulled out a map of the Mediterranean area and pointed to North Africa. "I'm going to start here," he said in a serious voice, but the grin never leaving, "We're going to push them up out of North Africa, where we enter Italy. Take out the weakest link. We're also going to enter from over the Chunnel and into France. Russia, you're going to push from the East. Germany might have dedicated men, but it will be difficult for him to keep up two fronts. And then we are going to push and keep pushing tell we win," he paused only for a moment before adding, "Because we will. In simple terms, you guys back me up, and I'm the hero."

"Da, you being the hero makes flawless sense," Russia had responded with a grin and a soft happy voice that both Arthur and America knew was a mocking statement. America answered with a glare before his grin got larger, "You know it!" The tension between the two had been there the entire time. It amazed him how the two men could easily hide behind their facades and not just straggle one another. Two very powerful men.

Arthur though was too baffle to even comprehend that thought process then. He had been too amazed by America's plan to actually understand anything else, but that was America. When he set his mind for success he found away to get it, and Arthur needed that determination in Libya.

"Arthur," Alfred said his full name, which meant he was serious, "I'm in Libya. I'm helping. My men are on the ground and our aircrafts are over it, but I can't commit more then what I already have over there. Congress has still not voted to go to war, and my boss is already in deep trouble for what we have over there."

Arthur had heard the news before, but he hoped to stress to Alfred how important it was. "Yes, yes, I know, but it's not enough. I've been supporting you through Afghanistan for the past ten years, all I ask is for the same consideration. If we are allies you should start acting like one!" Did Arthur say he was going stress it nicely?

"Iggy, you have to be kiddin me. Afghanistan isn't 'my' war. It's our war against the terrorist who have attacked your land more then mine. You might turn a blind eye after one attack, two, three, but if any group or nation attacks my land I do not sit waiting. I take action. I hate what's happening in Libya, but Libya has not economically or militarily attacked me. I'm involved because I am the hero, and as such I must protect all innocence from dying, but I will not risk my people's lives if my people do not believe it is worth it. I cannot increase men or supplies until after the vote. I'm sorry, Iggy, but it's politics, you know that," he heard the apologetic tone in the American's voice, but Arthur was furious. He knew it was uncalled for, but he had thought Alfred would care more. How many wars had England gotten involved in because America had preached that it was right? Too many, and now America was saying he might not even go to war!

It was immature, and Arthur knew it, but he chucked the phone against his wall. It shattered. At least now he could go to bed. Stupid America.

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><p>Alfred rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned against one of the white walls. A portrait of his first boss hung in front of him. It reminded him of when he was little which reminded him of Iggy. Iggy hadn't taken any of his calls since their late night conversation. He felt bad. He felt really bad. He wanted to be by Iggy's and Francis's side and fight against Gaddafi. All of NATO was telling him how important his involvement was, but a majority of his people didn't want it. He had issues going on at home that he had to solve first. He couldn't be spending more money on another war. He wasn't even officially at war with Libya and he had already spent 700 million dollars in the country.<p>

But he was the hero.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head further back on the wall. He wanted to help. Why did people have to suffer? Why couldn't he be stronger? He had to be stronger! He had to be stronger for the world. What had sucked even more was that he didn't even get a chance to tell Iggy about what had happen with Russia. It had been distracting him all week, and he found himself feeling nervous for the meeting. America didn't get nervous! Why did everything have to pile up on him?

"Been a tough week on all of us, kid," he heard a light jolly voice say as he felt someone pat his shoulder. He already knew who it was because there was only one person who called him 'kid.'

He couldn't help his small smile as he opened his eyes to see the Speaker of the House. Boehner's eyebrows seemed to drop over his blue eyes and his lips seemed to naturally be in a frown from the amount he worked, but Alfred always liked the man. He had watched him fight with Obama on many occasions, but he enjoyed it. He wasn't a nation of one boss, but of many. He also loved how big of heart this old man had. "Have you gone Democrat yet on us, kid?" the man asked with a small smirk, "Because that would be one horrible week for you."

"I've never been one for political parties," America said with a grin.

Boehner nodded, "Yes, but we both know you have the heart the size of an Elephant."

Alfred started laughing. He did always enjoy talking to Republicans. He felt nationalism pour off them like an aura, but they always were a bit more calculating and manipulative then the Democrats. They fought hard, but he assumed it was because they had been the minority party in Congress for quite some time. In wasn't until recent decades did they start gaining control. Democrats had a much more open arm policy that Alfred loved.

"Америка I find your face funny as well, but how can you see it with out a mirror?" an innocent voice Alfred had heard many times caused him to frown immediately. He turned and faced Russia to see both him and Russia's boss walking down the hallway.

"Не довести себя до его уровня с такими детскими выходками," Medvedev stated to Russia.

Russia smile didn't falter as he responded, "Да, вы правы."

Alfred eyes narrowed and he knew Boehner probably held a similar reaction. Medvedev smiled larger than life as he walked over to the two men. "I apologize, Russian humor is quite how do you say it- different from American," he said then grabbed and shook Alfred's hand followed by Boehner. "It's a pleasure as always, Alfred and Mr. Boehner," he said obviously trying to cover Russia's mistake.

Alfred was no fool though. He knew Russia wasn't making a joke. He was insulting him...again. He frowned. Why had he been thinking about that kiss? Russia was still a jerk.

"It's John," Boehner said in a less then thrilled tone.

"Ah John. Well we will see you both in the meeting then, da?" Medvedev said as he let go of Boehner's hand and walked by him, "Иван, пойдем. Мы будем иметь дело с ними в ходе совещания."

Russia followed suit, but stopped when he past America. He turned and gave Alfred that creepy smile. "I will see you soon, da?" he stated then headed towards the conference room.

Boehner and Alfred stared at the retreating form heading towards the conference room in silence. Alfred frowned in anger. "I don't like them. They are faker then a popular girl in high school," he stated aloud.

"Agreed," he heard Boehner state to his side.

He had way too much on his plate right now. Why did Alfred have to deal with Russia as well? Was the 21st century trying to test him? That had to be it. Well America would win! America always won!

"We have half and hour. I say we make it forty minute and go get a coffee from the staff room, kid," he heard Boehner say to his side.

Alfred smirked. He always liked Republicans.

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><p>an: England hasn't officially asked for more troops from America, but Nato as a whole has. I used England as an example of Nato. England is also being pressured with the amount of money their spending and needs help in Libya. A bill on US standings with Libya just entered Congress tonight, so we will see if we go to war or not sometime in the next few weeks, but some of are men are already there so technically we are at war. Obama used his war powers to accomplish it.

Translations (Might be wrong)

Не довести себя до его уровня с такими детскими выходками. – Do not bring yourself to his level with such childish antics.

Да, вы правы – Yes, you are right.

Иван, пойдем. Мы будем иметь дело с ними в ходе совещания. –Ivan let's go. We will deal with them during the meeting.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

a/n: Thanks for the review guys! I love em. Sorry this is short!

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><p>Ivan felt his boss becoming more and more infuriated, but just like him it was hidden behind a mask of indifference.<p>

"I apologize," America's boss said with a glare towards the door, "Speaker Boehner is usually never late." The African American man said as he glanced to his Chief of Staff almost willing him to find them.

"Since America cannot read time we cannot be too surprised," Ivan responded with an innocent smile. He watched America's boss frown and then felt his own boss kick him from underneath the table. Ivan's smile didn't falter though. His boss wanted them to reset issues, but there was no reason for Ivan to lie.

"I assure you, Alfred can read time," Obama let out a sigh then looked back towards the door, "He just has difficulty following it."

Ivan's eye fell to the conference table that sat between them and then towards the pitcher of water and empty glasses. He did not particularly want to be here. America was already acting like his immature self, and they had only been in this country for less then five hours. It was so disrespectful. He would quite enjoy when America power over the world fell. It was only a matter of time, and Ivan was patient.

Loud laughter pulled him from his thoughts and caused the three men sitting at the conference table to look towards the door. It flew open with the America's arm wrapped around one of his congressman. Ivan forced his smile to remain as he heard the young country say, "Gezz, I always forget how funny you are dude! I promise I'll show at the next GOP retreat just to watcha guys party it up! And you know I'm America, I don't break promises."

The three men stood with every one frowning except for Ivan. "Speaker Boehner, I thought we discussed the meeting occurred at 7:00 on the dot," America's boss seemed angry with the stern voice he was using, and Ivan watched as the speaker seemed to flinch at the cold tone, his smile being replaced with a disturbed annoyance.

"I apologize, Mr. President," the Congressman began to speak, but was interrupted.

"Ah don't be like that, boss. It's not the B-man's fault. I wanted coffee, and it took longer than I thought," America smiled a huge grin. Ivan couldn't help his eyes falling to it. He never understood how America could be so genuinely happy. Did he not see what happened every day? Did he not see the people dying and starving? Was he so thick headed that he didn't concern himself with any of it?

Ivan's hatred he felt for America's natural ability to simplify things was something beyond words. He hated it, but a small part of him felt drawn to it. He wanted to see the smile and the light hearted attitude. He assumed it was how a moth felt towards a flame, yes that would be how you would put it. Instead of focusing on that underlying feeling Ivan spoke, "I did not know your…instant coffee took an hour to make. Did you have difficulties opening the pack, da? I can help you in the future."

He watched as America's body stiffened and anger appeared on his face. Ah yes, that was better. "I don't need your help," America snapped at him as he let go of Boehner and walked over to his seat next to his boss.

"Alfred," Obama stated coldly. America only childishly pulled out his seat and sat down. He crossed his arms over his chest and began pouting. Ivan almost found it…cute..no. Ivan forced his smile larger. It was better if he didn't focus on America's appearance. The young nation had always been attractive, but a suit didn't change the fact that he acted like a child.

"Иван, мы будем обсуждать эту проблему, когда мы дома, но не стоит забывать, почему мы здесь," his boss threatened by his side. Ivan couldn't quite understand why his boss was angry. He was offering America help. Wasn't that a good thing, yes?

He merely nodded as he watched the congressman walk over to America's boss and attempt to whisper something in his ear, but Ivan heard it. "He is instigating him. Do you believe this trade to be a good idea now?" the Congressman whispered in distaste.

Ivan's boss must have caught it too because he immediately responded, "I believe we should let the nations discuss it among themselves as we take our own conversation elsewhere, yes?"

Obama nodded as he reached for his papers on the conference table. "Agreed, I'll show you to my office," he said then turned towards the door. He was followed by his boss and the congressman, but not without his boss shooting him a threatening glare. _I might not be Putin, but I am still in charge._

Russia smiled and waved politely at the figures disappearing through the door. When the room was empty except for the pouting nation across from him, his smile finally dropped slightly. How could he even attempt to become better aquatinted with this ridiculous nation? The blond had held a gun to his temple on many occasions. You can't expect him to trust him. He didn't have to trust him. He just needed an agreement. He reminded himself of the loneliness of his home and the isolation he had been in for so long. He had never trusted the world, but he could no longer stay within the confines of his home. He had to expand his culture and then maybe more people would love him. Yes, trade was the best option for him.

"Isn't it quite good we are friends," he attempted this degrading task.

"We are not friends," America muttered.

He felt his smile tilt on his face as his hand turned into a fist at his side. The spoiled brat really should learn manners. "I am happy your bruises have healed," he attempted again.

The American's big sky blue eyes shot him an evil glare. Ivan saw the brightness within them, but they seemed strangely less bright then usual. "Why are you even trying, dude? We both know if it were our choice we'd be playin video games instead of dealing with one another…well I guess you wouldn't. You would do whatever creepy things you do," America stated as if imagining the 'creepy' things Ivan did. By his paling face, Ivan assumed it was bad.

Ivan smile fell completely. It was insulting and made him angry, but he had to admit, America was right. "Knit," Ivan stated as his finger played with the edge of his long scarf that was over his suit.

America had grabbed a cup of water and right before he was about to take a sip, he looked up at Ivan with wide big eyes. "What?" Ivan saw the small smile on America's lips.

"I said I knit. Is you're hearing worst then your eyesight, da?" he asked.

America didn't glare at him like usual. Instead the man started laughing, slamming his glass onto the table. "HAHA, that's what I thought you said! Oh my god, that hilarious, dude!" America shouted as he slapped his knee and continued to laugh. "Oh gezz, I don't think I can breath."

Ivan's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe I understand why this is humorous," he stated.

America continued to laugh and then pointed at him. "How can you not? I mean look at you! You're a big guy! You're Russia for crying out loud and you…you knit!" America started laughing.

Ivan still didn't understand why this was humorous. His sister Ukraine had taught him to knit when he was but a child. It was one of the few things that made him feel less alone. When he heard America's response his face turned completely cold. He felt the urge to repeat kol kol, but he was desperately trying to break that habit. "I'm not fat. I am merely big boned," he stated, his two fingers tightening on his scarf as he imagined it to be one of America's blue eyes.

"Dude, never said you were," America said as he wiped a tear from underneath his eyelid as the stupid grin was still implanted on his face. "Does the sensitive attitude go with the knitting?" America started laughing again, "Gezz, Russia if I knew this about you I think I would have been less afraid of you during the Cold War."

That statement caused Ivan to pause and for a moment his expression revealed his confusion. He immediately hid it behind a smile. He hadn't know America had been afraid of him. The way he confidently attempted to push him around during the Cold War made him believe that America was either extremely brave or extremely stupid. He hadn't ever considered America shaking in fear on his couch like Russia had done on many nights, the only consolidation being the bottle of vodka in his hand. He had felt weak those few nights, and he promised himself he would make sure America was never given the chance to hurt him. He wondered if America had made the same promise.

Ivan didn't know why he wondered when he knew the truth. He had seen America eyes. He had read them all through out the Cold War. He remembered the moment when they both stood on separate boats off the coast of Cuba. He saw the fear in America's eyes because he was certain when he stared at America he was looking at a reflection of himself. Ivan didn't particularly understand why that fact bothered him. It was like admitting that America and him had similarities, and it was dreadful thought. America was nothing like him. America was lazy, stupid, and ignorant.

"Russia," he heard the American's voice that shook him from his thoughts, "You okay? You seem a bit…well weirder then usual."

Ivan looked down at the blond who was looking at him with a suspicious look. He said in a soft sweet voice, "Da. You're loud voice merely gives me a headache, but I've become used to it."

He watched the America's anger rise as he stood from his chair. "Seriously Russia, you're a jerk!" he shouted, "I'm totally awesome and you need to get with the program."

"That is one opinion," he responded causally as the America pointed a finger at him.

"I gonna be honest, Russia. I don't get it," America said throwing his hands in the air. His glasses seemed to be falling lower on his nose as America looked up at the sky as if asking it a question. His eyes then fell back to him. "I'm dealing with a ton of shit right now. I don't think you even have a clue, but I know for sure I shouldn't be dealing with you. I mean come on. Why do you hate me? I know why I hate you and it's cause…well you're a jerk. You don't think of anyone besides yourself and your goals. You're selfish! But I don't go out of my way to make you miserable every time I see you just cause I don't like you. I'm too awesome for that. Nice guy, you see. But you do! I mean, I get it. We had the Cold War. You're bosses fucking sucked, but didn't we used to be friends at some point. I think I even looked up to you when I was really young. Now you're just a big fat meanie!" America said as he leaned over the table between them, "I just want to know why?"

If Ivan were to see himself at this moment, he would see the shadows forming around his eyes and the creepy smile looking ready to kill. Most nations would have coward and ran away to a corner, but America was not like most nations. It would have been a frightening sight, but Ivan didn't see himself. He saw America accusing him of being mean.

"почему?" he asked in a childish voice with a dark edge to it as he slowly leaned over the table himself. "That is not a difficult question, but I can see how it is for someone with such small mental capacity," his smile grew, "You prance around this world as if you own it. You force your ideals onto everyone out of some delusional idea that we want them. You act like your innocent of any wrong when you have done far worst in your short time here." He paused as his palm touched the surface of the table. He really felt an urge to hit that confident face in front of him, but his voice only darkened, "I hate you, as you so bluntly put it, because you have never taken responsibility for your actions. You act as a child where heroes defeat the villains, but have you ever consider there are no villains in this fable." Ivan shook his head and let out a fake laugh at the nonsense America had put him and the world through, "Nyet, how can I expect that thought to pass through your mind when you haven't even considered that no one wants you as a hero. You are a fool."

Ivan eyes were locked with America's blue ones as their faces stood only inches apart over the conference table. America held a glare that matched his own, but Ivan was not threatened by it. He only watched waiting for America's next move. The tension engulfed them both similarly as the night in the dessert. He wondered silently if the man would hit him again. He felt frozen in his stance, and the tension almost made it difficult to breath, but then…

Then America started laughing.

Translations

Иван, мы будем обсуждать эту проблему, когда мы дома, но не стоит забывать, почему мы здесь- Ivan, we will discuss this behavior when we are home, but do not forget why we are here.

почему - Why


	5. Chapter 5

"America, I-I don't think I'm going to make it."

"l'Amérique, I'm a country of love is it so surprising I would like a helping hand? You do have soft hands."

"Please America, you have to help me. He's trying to kill me. He's trying to take over my land. I-I don't know what's happen to him. Please just-just help me. Please."

"I'm small. I know that. But-but he doesn't have the right! I-but…no-he was my neighbor! Damn him! America, I can't win, alone."

"I feel like there are so many voices trying to lead me this way or that. They're pulling at every edge of me. Ripping me apart from the inside. Was this how it felt for you? Constant screaming! Just so much screaming. I want it to stop. Please make it stop!"

"My people can't eat…I watch my children die in the dessert. The flies accompany them until the lions take their bodies. It's a race between the disease you call aids and starvation, and there is nothing I can do. But it's possible to do something with your help."

"I know you already have your own forces there, and I greatly appreciate it, but I need more support."

The image and voice of each country who had asked or pleaded him for help raced through his mind as he stared at the violet eyes in front of him. There were so many, so many problems that he had attempted to solve, but couldn't. He tried so hard to help everyone. He tried to save them from horrible leaders, natural disasters, economic poverty, and anything else that would hurt his fellow nations. He tried so hard, but what did he get in return. He got Russia accusing him of being an unwanted hero. He knew many of the nations felt this way. When he had been late to G8 meetings and slurping down his soda he would hear the other nations talking behind his back. He heard the insults. He heard them accuse him of abusing his power. He heard the names: police watch dog, stupid, nosy brat. They would continue until America would slam open the door and the room would go quiet. Alfred would always continue to slurp from his straw as he looked at each nation. He would wait to see if any would confront him to his face, but all just stared at him silently. He would then shrug and move to his seat, where Iggy would scold him for being late.

Did it bother him? Of course it did, but America had to be like Batman. Yes, his Hollywood movies had taught him well. He had to be the hero even if they didn't want him. How did that Dark Knight line go? That was an awesome movie. He would watch it tonight. Yeah, that'd be totally awesome. He grinned happily at Russia's cold glare. He couldn't believe that was the reason behind Russia's attitude towards him. It was completely and utterly stupid. He started chuckling lightly, but he couldn't control it. He went in to full laughter fit as he pushed himself off the table. He couldn't see the confused glare Russia was giving him at the moment. He just continued to laugh. Was this the underline cause of their tension the whole time? It was so simple.

He finally managed to calm himself down and look at Russia who was now standing with his arms across his chest and an indifferent expression. Alfred gave him a large grin. "Dude, you hate me because I'm nice?" he asked aloud and tried to hold back his laughter as it threatened to escape again.

He watched Russia's eyes narrow before the man shook his head in a similar way that Iggy would. "I am certain that your American logic makes no sense," he stated then shot his glare back at him.

While he didn't enjoy the insult, he did like the fact that Russia was talking to him as an equal. He was no longer using that innocent voice just to annoy him. America scratched the back of his head wondering for a second what Russia didn't understand. "You say you hate me because I get involved, right?" America gave him a friendly grin, "Well, you're right I do. I can't…not. I can't just watch as people get hurt, man," his grin falter as he found himself sighing. Why did he have to explain this to Russia? He hadn't really explained it to anyone. He just let the other nations think what they wanted and he continued being the hero. "I feel responsible," he smiled a little wider, "Cause I don't know, I'm the hero. I have to be."

"идиот," the Russian mumbled in anger. He didn't quite understand why Russia was getting so angry. The man obviously had an anger management issue he should check into. The man then smiled that creepy smile of his, which caused Alfred to frown. "Listening must not be a talent in America, da?" he insulted sweetly, "I thought I informed you no one wants you as the hero."

Alfred's frown deepened. He had to be kidding. "You don't have a clue do ya? I've heard people say that to me before, but what's that word…uh….when you say something, but do the opposite. Hypocrite! Ya that's it. You guys are all hypocrites. You say you don't want me as a hero, but as soon as I decide to mind my own business I get begged for help…or better yet I'm blamed for not helping! I'm in a suckie position," he said, his own anger starting to rise. He felt his glasses slipping down his nose, and he pushed them back up. He remembered all the times he tried isolationism. Every time he was pulled back into other people's problems. No one ever tried to understand what he went through, and Russia had the balls to tell him that no one wanted him as a hero! "I help, I get yelled at. I don't help, I get yelled at! I can't do anything right! But you know what? I do what I think is right cause you guys change your mind too much for me to even attempt to keep up."

He stood there staring at Russia waiting for him to even justify himself. He knew he couldn't. Alfred knew he was right because he had been dealing with it for over a century. His eyes were locked with Russia's violet ones. They seemed to be attempting to read them.

The silence continued until Russia asked, "Why do you help them then?"

Alfred blinked, the anger immediately leaving as he thought it over. He scratched the back of his head as he uttered out the only reason, "Because it's the right thing to do."

He heard the Russian scoff then turn to the door. "You really are a fool," he stated walking past the conference table.

Alfred eyebrows tilted in annoyed, but then he shouted, "Hey, where you going?"

"It is obvious, I am leaving," he said then opened up the door.

"Our bosses aren't finished. You can't just leave," he said annoyed.

"Da, I am certain I can. There is nothing preventing me," he then left through the door.

America stood there looking out at the open door. He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. Why the hell did Russia just leave? They were doing business. His boss was gonna be so mad. He was going to think that Alfred forced him to leave. Damn it, Russia. He let out a whine then headed out of the room as well. He turned in the direction Russia went and ran up to the man wearing the scarf. "I'm coming with ya," he said as he slid in next to Russia's side as they walked down the hallway.

"I believe the point of leaving was to create distance away from you," Russia said with a sweet smile.

Alfred ignored it. "Don't care dude. I'm not gettin yelled at by my boss cause of you," he said with his own grin. He saw a few staff members walking by and they all greeted him. He gave them each a personal smile and a loud howdy. He didn't notice Russia flinching next to him at each loud greeting.

"I am going to my hotel, so there is no reason for you to accompany me," Russia said kindly, "Thank you for your unwanted attention."

"That's lame," Alfred noted as they made a turn down another hallway heading to the back exit of the White House.

"Da, I bid you farewell then," Russia said.

"Nope, how bout we go see a movie…or better yet go to ESPN zone. That place is freakin amazing. So many games. It's only five blocks from here. Ya let's go!" Alfred said with new excitement. He might be hanging out with a complete jerk, but ESPN zone can make anything fun. Also Alfred could kick the commie bastard's ass on any of the games. Alfred smirked.

Before he could even imagine a whimpering Russian as he gloated over success he felt a grip around his throat and then his back slamming against the wall. Alfred's eyes widened as he stared at Russia. "Dude, what the fuck?" he shouted, as the grip tightened around his throat. He felt himself being raised off the ground so only his toes were touching. His hands automatically went to Russia's wrist in attempt to rip them away.

"I understand you are thick headed so I will explain this slowly. I do not wish to spend time with you currently," Russia said in a deadly tone. His silver hair fell over his forehead in a dark way.

"Dude," he chocked out, "Calm the fuck down." Part of Alfred hoped his boss would walk around the corner. Bye Bye Russia and any possible relations with ya. Yes, that would be pretty cool, but Alfred didn't seem to be that lucky. The hallway was empty. Oh wait! Security cameras! He was totally showing this to his boss.

"I am calm."

"Oh yeah choking someone is just normal in Russia?" he said with a smirk.

"Da," was Russia's only response as his grip tightened even more and stepped closer. Alfred felt Russia's chest against his own as the man leaned his face closer. For a moment, Alfred was reminded of the kiss. Was he planning on doing that again and why would he? But then he leaned towards his ear. He felt Russia's cold breath against it causing a shiver to go down his spine. It made no sense how the man could be this cold. "Америка, I will make this clear, I do not wish for you to ever be my hero, so stay out of my affairs," he said against his ears.

Alfred couldn't even comprehend his statement. He wasn't getting involved in Russia's affairs. He was merely trying to beat his ass in a game of air hockey. Stupid Russia. The grip on his throat disappeared, and he felt his feet hit the ground. His hand immediately went to his throat to comfort it as he noticed Russia fixing the crinkle in his suit. Before Russia took his first step though, Alfred couldn't hold back his comment. "I can't be your hero. You're the villain, and everyone knows the hero defeats the villain, duh," he said with a stupid grin. He couldn't help himself. Russia was being a jerk again so that gave him all right to retaliate.

He felt a grip in his hair that yanked his head to the side. Russia face was very close to him. It was an invasion of his bubble for sure. "That's what you've always thought, da?" Russia asked in his normal tone, "I am evil."

Alfred chewed the question over like chewing a juicy steak. Did he really think Russia was evil? Back in the Cold War, Russia was the evil empire. There was no further explanation. Russia wanted to take over the world and for that it made him evil. Yet Russia didn't take over the world and was also doing his own part in helping other nations. Then again, the man had him pushed up against the wall. Damn that grip was painful. "The current situation might be proof for that," he laughed a little. He was angry, without a doubt, but currently this was a little humorous.

"Stop that," he heard and found himself drawn to Russia's pretty eyes. No, America did not just say they were pretty! They are not.

"Stop what?" Alfred asked confused.

"You never take anything seriously, Америка," Russia's yanked his hair more to the side.

Alfred face furrowed in annoyance, but a small part of him was distracted on how close his lips were to his own. No. Stop. It was a weird fluke. It was best to get Russia away. "Dude, I'm done with this," Alfred said then pushed Russia hard in the chest.

The man didn't move. Alfred frowned and pushed his hands harder against the bigger man's chest. He felt Russia pushing pressure back preventing him from moving. "You are not as strong as me, Америка. You should accept that and learn your place," Russia's mouth had turned into a disturbing smirk.

Fuck that. "Russia, I have no problem breaking your nose again," he stated coldly. Screw diplomacy. He didn't care that he was in the White House. Russia had no reason to be treating him like this when his country was offering trade. Alfred felt his hand ball into a fist.

"You are like a cat, da? When the dog has trapped you in the corner you attempt to fight back. Feeble sad attempts. Is that what your people would call pathetic?" Russia said taking a step even closer.

Punching at this distance would be difficult, but it would still be effective, or maybe…

He smirked. He reached around Russia's waist and grabbed the ends of his scarf. He then pulled tightly causing the bigger man to wince and glare. "I never really saw myself like a cat," he said, "I've always been an eagle type of guy." He pulled harder on the scarf only to feel Russia's grip in his hair increase.

How the hell did they get themselves in another stalemate? America pulled away from Russia's hand and Russia pulled away from the force of the scarf. They both stood up straight bringing their faces only centimeters away. They each had that determine look on their face, but both appeared to be biting back the pain. Neither wanted to show weakness or admit the other had won, so even though Russia's breath was becoming harder and America hair was actually starting to be ripped out they just continued to stare into each other eyes.

"Alfred," a voice caused them both to let go and look towards who had said it. "What in the world is going on?" the older blond woman in blue pants suit asked the same way a confused mother would ask if she saw her son about to eat a worm.

"Uh hey Mrs. Clinton," Alfred said in an awkward tone as his eyes fell innocently to the floor. He started fidgeting with his hands. Shit. Clinton was a hard ass. She was so intense. If she found out they were fighting she would lecture him for hours. Blah! "Uh…we were just talking. We weren't like fighting. Everything's just peachy." He stole a quick glance at Hilary who was giving him a suspicious look. She had files in her hand and must have just gotten back from the Department of State. "Right, Russia!" he said then slammed his hand into Russia's back.

Russia was giving him a strange look. It verged on confusion and humor. "Da," he responded, and Alfred had to force his shock face away. Had Russia just helped him there? Holy Shit. Did the world just freeze over?

Clinton nodded, though her face told him that she didn't believe them. "Alright boys. I don't particularly care as long as you don't bring missiles into your wrestling," she answered then opened the door to her office and walked in.

It was silent again in the hallway. Alfred rubbed the back of his head unsure of where to go from here. "Well uh thanks for covering," he muttered.

"добро пожаловать, seeing a grown man cower from a woman brightened my day. Thank you," Russia answered.

"No problem," he said still staring at Clinton's door to make sure she wasn't coming out. "Hey wait!" he shouted and turned to his side to see Russia walking away and hear his soft chuckles. "I was not cowering!"

Translations

Идиот – Idiot

добро пожаловать – You're Welcome

The dialogue were different countries asking for US help. England-WWI, France-WWII, South Korea-Korean War, Kuwait-First Persian Gulf War, Somalia-Operation Restore Hope, An Africa country but couldn't decide who -Food Donations, England-Libya War I got lazy so that's all I decided to put in. I also decided to focus more on war, even though the US is largest country to supply foreign aid in the world.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

a/n: Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad my stories growing on people! Warning rated m for reasons

Ivan shrugged off his jacket as he entered his large empty home. He went through the motions of hanging up his jacket, placing his briefcase underneath, and double checking the lock at the door before walking towards his kitchen. He felt numb when he should feel a sense in relief. His two days in America seemed to have had large positive effects, and it appeared that the America government would be supporting them on this journey to the World Trade Organization. Dealing with America himself, however, had been an almost exhausting experience. After their disagreement in the White House, witnessed by one of America's superiors, their bosses decided it would be better to keep them separated.

Ivan had no disagreements to that plan. After his conversation with America he wanted distance from the man. He couldn't exactly explain his thoughts at the moment. America probably lacked the most intelligence out of all his fellow nations. It confused Ivan to no ends how this man became the current super power. It was so…disgusting, but yet he couldn't get past America's words. How could the nation get involved with another nation without self interest attached? How could a nation only based their decision on only moral values? Lies. He had to be lying, or he was too foolish to realize that he fought for his own self interest as they all did.

Ivan closed his eyes as he took in a deep cleansing breath. He didn't understand why it had bothered him so much. He had heard America preach his values before out of some moral mission a 'god' had sent him on. Spreading democracy…it was almost a joke, but Ivan saw the seriousness behind America's eyes. America legitimately believed he was doing right. Foolish. Foolish. Foolish little boy. Was that the reason America was always so happy?

Ivan found himself imagining America's smile. It really was something spectacular. There was so much life and energy with a single movement. He remembered when he had first witnessed it from the small colony. He remembered when America had actually acquired a friendship with him. He wondered if America remembered. No, why would America remember such a tedious thing? It had happened when the boy was just starting out. Most of the world believed he wouldn't even last as a country…oh how wrong the world was.

Ivan frowned at his thoughts. He ripped opened the door to his food and glanced over his options. He hated America. America hated him. America lived in his fantasy world and Russia lived in reality. There was no possibility of such a friendship ever occurring. If anything Ivan wanted to press America's face into the dirt and inform him of the world he trampled over on a daily basis. He then wanted to throw America into the destruction he had caused in the Middle East and then toss him into the poverty his recession had caused. He would watch America weep as realization would hurt him. America would finally understand he does not belong in the power position. He is far too young and foolish.

Ivan felt a real smile come across his face. The idea of watching America crumple at his feet was an image he would hold dear in the back of his mind. The image of America pressed up against the wall under his grip made him uncomfortably hot. The feeling caused Ivan to let out a grunt of displeasure. No, he would not think such thoughts. He had much more important manners to attend to.

A knock pulled him from his thoughts, and he slowly turned his head towards the hallway. He closed the refrigerator door. Who would be visiting him? He felt a small ounce of glee that showed on the smile on his face. He always did enjoy visitors. They happened so rarely in the years after the fall of the Soviet Union, but recently they had occurred more frequently. Who could it be? He walked to his front door. He hand reached to the doorknob ready to allow the visitor in.

"Big Brother."

He flinched. His hand visibly shaking a few centimeters from the doorknob. Oh no…Natalya. He managed to avoid her for a few months, but she never stopped trying. He loved his sister. He did, but Natalya…was…oh so weird.

He hadn't opened the door yet. He could easily go back to the kitchen and act as if he weren't home. Or even better go hide under his bed just in case she decided to break down his door. He slowly took a step back hoping his old floorboards wouldn't creek with age.

"Big Brother, I know you are home," her deep female voice said from the other side of the door as the knocking persisted, "I followed your flight status. It should have taken you no longer then two hours to drive home. Big Brother, please open the door."

He cursed the creation of the Internet. It had become difficult to avoid his sister's constant watching eyes. He did not understand why his family had to be so strange. He took another step back. She hadn't seen him enter his home so her logic could be disproven with his lack of response.

"Big Brother," she whined from the other end, "I must check up on you after you visit that dreadful country. Big Brother, open the door."

His expression looked fearful. Please…please just go away, he thought to himself as he held out both hands almost scared that the door would disappear at any moment.

"Big Brother, you would not leave your little sister out in the cold night air. It is very unkind. Your little sister could catch a cold," she spoke through the door.

He felt his heart clinch. He couldn't allow his sister to catch a cold. It would be very unbrotherlike. He paused. He still did not want to let her in. "Natayla, I am very tired from the flight. I will not be able to spend time with you today," he stated in hopes that she would leave.

"Big Brother!" she said with happiness at hearing his voice, "I will not be going home until I see you! I must be certain you are alright."

While Ivan relations with America were not pleasant, his sister knew their tension was in the past (sort of). His sister should not be over reacting a simple meeting. "I am fine, Natayla. You may go home," he said with the barest hint of hope in his voice. Please just go home.

"Let me in!" his sister growled out and he heard scratching against the door. Ivan's eyes widened in fear as he physically cowered behind his jacket on the hanger. She was so frightening. The claws (fingers) continued to dig into his door and his fear made him forget he had his water pipe on him. He couldn't assess the situation logically. Hiding under his bed was becoming the best idea.

The scratching changed to banging.

Bang.

Bang.

BANG.

The lock on the door broke, and the door flung open. Ivan looked like a deer in headlights as he saw his little sister standing in her usual dress. Her face held an even expression until she found him. It then lit up with the largest smiles.

"Oh Big Brother! I am so happy to see you," she said as she attached herself to his shaking form like a leach. He looked down at her, uncertain on how to react. He could not push her off for fear of her attack.

"N-natalya, I can not chat. I had planned to go to bed early," he said in a rush trying to fine an escape.

"But I am here now so your plans will change," she responded, squeezing his middle tighter and burying her face into his chest.

"No," he responded with a dash of uncertainty.

Her sisters body stiffened, until her face slowly rose from his chest to give him a death glare. "Yes," she stated clearly.

He gulped. His family was so weird. He had thought America was odd, but at least the man had a lighter personality. He did quite enjoy America's persona…no. No, he did not.

"I sold you the pipelines, Big Brother," his sister commented with a twisted smile, "You are officially inside of me now."

Oh dear god. He hadn't asked to buy the gas pipelines for that sense. He needed to escape her. He brought his hands to her shoulders and gently pushed away. "Yes, well good night," he said, but found that her grip only tightened.

"But I want to thank you," she said sincerely, "You are paying for my debt as well. I could not ask for a better brother."

He had been disappointed that her sister managed to require such a debt, but he could not let his sister fall like all the other country's were to over spending. He had to bail her out, but he did not take that action to garner this type of response from her. He was merely performing his brotherly duties. "Words are enough, little sister," he said then pushed hard on her shoulders. Why did she not move?

"No. I can show you thanks in much better ways, yes?" she said and before Ivan could protest, his sister stood on her tip toes and locked lips with him. His eyes grew to the size of saucers. He pushed on her shoulder harder, but her lips stayed firmly placed on his.

Unfortunately, this was not the first time his sister had kissed him. He tried to remember his previous ways of escape, but his mind traveled to his last kiss. It had been with America. He was warm and full of light while his sister seemed to be draining his soul. Why could it not be Amer….

He closed his eyes at that thought. He did not particularly understand why his mind was so focus on America. Yes, he had previous fantasies of America during the Cold War. How could he not? They all had involved bondage, whips, and blood, but they were still fantasies. He assumed that the underlying lust had just never been clenched. Yes, that was the proper explanation. He lusted for America. He was an attractive man after all. He was an annoying loud man, but that could easily be solved with tape or a gag. How would he ever propose such an option to the young nation?

No. Russia would not degrade himself by ever having sexual affairs with that nation. Pathetic ignorant nation! His finger tightened into his sister's shoulders as that frustration came to the surface. It was already degrading that he had to seek the man's approval. Russia did not need approval from other countries. Russia was powerful and America only had luck. He slammed his sister onto the wall that he had so recently been cowering against. He heard a pain grunt and imagined America begging not to hurt him. He would beg after all. Russia would listen. He would listen with a smile before kindly rejecting the plea. His hand moved from her shoulder and into her hair. He pulled hard, remembering America's soft hair in his grips. He must used the over chemical substance he called shampoo to keep it so soft because everything in America was fake and unnatural. America played god because he enjoyed the power. He pulled tighter pressing his lips harder against her mouth. Teeth clashed teeth, but he paid it no mind. He only heard a soft wince in pain. He was reminded of what had occurred in Washington. He wanted to take the American right there. He wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face and prove to him who had more power. He pulled her hair to the side causing her neck to reveal itself to him. He left her mouth and bit down on her neck. He wanted his blood. He wanted to watch him bleed because of him, but he had held himself back. America still held the control, and he hated it. He should not be following a self proclaimed hero. His other hand went to her side and he squeezed it tightly as he pressed his chest harder against her. She probably couldn't breath, but he didn't care. America didn't deserve breath. Every breath he took only led to a foolish idea.

"Brother," he heard a gasp, "You…are…being too rough."

Hearing her voice unsettled something from him. He didn't want to hear her voice. He wanted to hear his. "Be quiet," he said coldly against her neck. He bit another spot harder, breaking skin. He heard a sharp gasp and an attempt to struggle. Yes, America would struggle. His pride would be broken and America would face the truth. The world hated him. The world had no place for heroes. His hand traveled further until reaching her thigh. He picked up her leg sliding his leg between them. Her feet were off the ground and he heard a shoe fall in the distance. His hand left her hair and moved to the edge of her dress. He didn't even look as he hiked up her dress past her hips. America would scream his name. He would look up at him and say "Please, save me."

"No," he said aloud with a smirk as he ripped off her underwear with a snap of fabric.

He felt the person in his grips attempting to push him away, so he grabbed the hands and slammed them above her head. He collected her wrist in one hand as his free hand went to his belt. America believed his destiny was to save the world when in reality it would be him who would need saving. Yes. He unbuttoned his pants and slid them down. He linked his free arm under her knee pulling it up closer to her chest. He heard a soft whimper. He wondered how hard America would cry. He would feel the same pain Russia had felt at the end of the Cold War. He would feel all the hurt and loneliness. It was only fair, yes? If his government wished for better relations America would have to feel his pain.

He slammed his length inside the tightness, feeling warmth around him. He let out a low moan, completely unaware of a woman's scream. America would have to understand the pain before Russia would listen to his ridiculous speeches. Russia had never asked for America's help. Russia had never wanted it, but America played with his affairs nonetheless. He pumped himself back and forth. His grip on the wrist tightening as his speed increased. America had no right to be the super power. He thrusted harder, hearing a gasp in the distance. America had no right to be a hero. His fingers clinched as he felt himself reaching his point. He increased his speed. America would wither underneath him. Fairness, yes. This was all about what was fair. Oh god, so fair. Yes, very fair. His jaw tightened as he slammed into the center heat, releasing inside.

He leaned his forehead against the wall. His heavy breathing slowly calmed his anger. His eyes stayed closed as he held the person between him and the wall. He didn't hate America. No, hate was in the past with the Cold War. He only wanted to educate America on how flawed his views are. Then maybe America would see this world for what it really was.

He sighed until he felt shivering underneath him. His eyes widened as realization hit. What had he done? He pulled his head away from the wall to see his sister's tear soaked face. Oh Natayla…

How could he do this to his sister? His poor sweet innocent creepy sister…

What if this was her first time? He had never cared to learn about his sister sexual affairs, but…oh no. No. No. No. He pulled out immediately, letting his sister's feet touch the ground. She seemed to wobble slightly, so luckily one of his hands gripped her waist. He pulled up his pants in a quick hurry then pulled down her dress. "Natayla," he said softly, looking into her water eyes that seemed to be numb. They wouldn't look at him. He attempted a quick glance at her legs, and was happily to note that he didn't see blood. It was somewhat of a relief to know that his sister was not a virgin, though that meant he would be talking with the Baltic on that front. "Natayla," he tried again, but his sister eyes had fallen to the floor.

"I'm so sorry, sister," he said sweetly, as his hand reached out to brush her hair out of her face. When his finger touched her cheek she flinched. It hurt to see her this way.

They stayed in that stiff position for what felt like hours. Ivan felt so unsure on what to do. He hadn't meant to take advantage of her.

"No," she spoke softly, "I mean no, Big Brother, you should not be sorry." She finally forced her eyes to look up at him. He studied her features suspiciously. She wore a smile, but he saw the pain underneath. "I wanted this, Brother. I wanted to become one with you. I want to marry you. This is required. I am happy that you enjoyed my time."

Her statements made his stomach twist. "Natayla, I am sorry. This will never happen again, nor would I ever expect it," he stated.

"Please, don't be. I quite enjoyed it," she lied, "I love you, brother."

He felt so frazzled and unsure so he only responded softly, "I love you too, sister."

She nodded with a force smile. "I must go home. Good night, brother," she said softly.

He moved and watched her leave through the door. His eyes locked with the wooden door. Why…how? He closed his eyes. He had hurt his sister. How could he hurt his sister? He sighed.

It was all because of America. America had made him so frustrated. He needed to avoid conversation with the man. If his government wanted to strengthen ties they could accomplish it without him.

He felt a vibration in his pants. Who could be calling him now? He reached into his pocket with bare interest. He clicked answer without looking. His eyes were still closed as he spoke into the phone, "Hello?"

"Dude, sup?"

* * *

><p>If it's not obvious, everything spoken between Russia and Belarus was spoken in Russian.<p>

Random True Facts:

Belarus did sell their gas lines to Russia, and Russia is bailing out Belarus.

Things I made up:

I'm not certain if the bill to normalize trade with Russia will be passed or not. I'm assuming it will. Something really weird would have to happen for it not to. I know part of the republican party is not supportive, but I can't see that being too drastic of an effect. So in my story I'm predicting the future and saying the america will normalize trade with russia.

PS: There will be more things I make up in the future, but I'll tell you at the end like I did here. Anyways, hope you all like!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

a/n: Thanks for the reviews again! I love em. I love em a lot lol. I'm sorry this is short and lacks any current events, but there will be current events in the next chapter. ^^ I do love dropping them in just for entertainment. I mean, honestly, I love hetalia, but one of the main reasons I love it is for the historical facts they throw in. Anyways I hope you like it.

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><p>Alfred glanced at his phone then back to the game of halo on the large widescreen TV then back at the phone…then back to the TV.<p>

Oh damn it! He just got shot!

"_You're sucking tonight. Glad you're not on my team," _Tony said in some strange language that America had no problem understanding. For some reason all America heard when talking to Tony was American (why would he call it English? He made Iggy's language ten times better).

"Dude, shut up. I'm not doing that bad," he whined as he reappeared in a different section of the online territory.

"_You muted the chat because your team was hatin' on ya. I say that's pretty bad," _Tony said before letting out a squeaky heazing laugh that sounded like beeps.

Alfred pouted at the screen as he tried to shoot someone on the blue team who was hiding around the corner. He threw a grenade, but he missed. As he backed away from his own grenade someone killed him from behind. Damn it! He growled and threw the controller on the ground. "Halo is so over rated anyways!" he said as he stood up from the couch.

_"You're just mad cause you're losing,_" Tony said as he continued to shoot multiple players down in the game, as if talking with Alfred had no effect on his awesomeness in the game.

"I am not!" he said as he grabbed his phone off the coffee table, "I'm just hungry! I can't be expected to kill people on an empty stomach. I'll be back. I'm going to Micky Ds. Do you want anything?"

"_Five BicMac meals with coke,_" Tony said, his eyes narrowing at the screen as he avoided flying grenades.

"That's it?" Alfred asked surprised at the small order.

"_Oreo Mcflurry too," _he added.

Alfred nodded before walking out of the living room and towards the entrance to his home. His hand naturally went to his jacket, but he reminded himself of how hot it was outside. He would be sweating by the time he made it to Micky Ds. He would definitely need ten cokes to cool down. Nothing settled dehydration better then a coke after all! He glanced back at the living room to still see Tony kicking ass in Halo. Alfred normally was never that bad, but his mind had been distracted.

He opened the door and walked out into the hot humidity of the DC day. He stepped out, blinking a few times as he got used to the sun. Tony and him usually kept the shades closed when playing games. It prevented glares on the screen that could be very harmful to success. Once used to the sun he started down the sidewalk towards Connecticut Ave. It was about a ten-block walk away to get to the shops on Connecticut, but it was worth it. He also got to see the other families in his neighborhood. Most worked for the government, lobbying agency, or big NGOs. He loved saying hi to the kids. He didn't understand, but DC kids were super smart. This one girl on his block knew how to speak Russian and she was only eight!

He frowned at the thought. She shouldn't be learning Russian in the first place. Russian was a stupid language. Russia was stupid!

Okay, now Alfred was just being immature. He knew it, but he still couldn't get over the whole meeting. Russia had insulted him and attacked him in his own home. Alfred was just trying to be nice! It was sooo….just not cool. What made it worst was that his boss was mad at him. At him! He hadn't done anything. Russia had started it.

He kicked an imaginary rock on the sidewalk in irritation. "Not cool," he mumbled to himself as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. He was already sweating through his white button down, but he was too mad to notice. Stupid Russia. He was just power hungry. He was constantly looking for a way to get more power, and he finally decided that sucking up to him would be the best option.

He smirked at that image. He hadn't considered that before. Russia was actually sucking up to him…well not like a normal country would, but still. Russia was asking for his approval. No wonder he was in such a bad mood. He was pissed that he finally had to respect someone else. Alfred paused. His grin got larger on his face. It was nice to have something to justify Russia's crazy moods to. It meant it wasn't Alfred's fault, but Russia's.

If that was the case then Alfred could apologize like his boss wanted. (He didn't have to admit to being wrong.) Alfred nodded to himself as he passed by more houses, hearing the distance of traffic of Connecticut Avenue. His hand touched his phone in his pocket. He just had to give a quick call…that was it. He imagined Russia's voice on the phone. It would be full of false kindness and nothing like that voice that caused shivers down his spine. Just imagine his normal deep voice made him feel cooler in the hot sun. He remembered Russia's body pressing against him. It felt so cold to strangely conflict with the inward heated feeling he felt. He shook his head causing his hair to fall in front of his forehead.

Stop it. So what if he's a little cold…and it felt good to have that coldness near him…it's like a hundred degrees! Of course, I'd feel that way about any portable air conditioning system, he thought to himself as he held the phone in his grip.

He just needed to call and then his boss would be happy. Simple. He could do that. Alfred pressed his lips together mentally willing himself to take action and then with a deep breath he slid his Iphone on then ran through his contacts.

Communist Jerk

There he is. He clicked the contact for the first time in….well…he couldn't remember the last time he called Russia. He brought it up to his ear and heard the ringing. He kept walking and started to whistle trying to pull off the look like he called Russia all the time. The phone rang twice. Was Alfred counting? No. Not at all!

"приветствие," he heard an exhausted voice on the other end.

"Dude, sup?" he asked with an extra happy tone to the weird greeting.

There was no response. Alfred scrunched his face together in confusion. Did he lose service again? AT&T had been doing that to him a lot lately. He assumed that was the reason he got disconnected from so many phone calls. (No, he doesn't have a clue that people actually hang up on him.) He pulled his phone away and saw the call was still going and that he had full bars. He brought it back to his ear. "Hey dude, you there? It says I have full bars, but I can't hear a word you're saying," he said.

He heard some mumbling that he couldn't even begin to make out followed by a more clear response, "America I do not currently have time for your childish antics nor will I have any time in the future. You can call my office and leave a message there, da. It was a, how do you say, pleasure speaking with you. Goodbye, America."

Alfred frowned. He was dismissing him like a telemarketer! "Dude, I was totally calling to apologize, but if you're gonna be lame you can forget it."

"You were?" he heard a softer response and America responded in a huff. He saw the lights at the intersection, which meant he was close to Micky's.

"Yeah dude," he answered, "I'm sorry that your having metapausal mood swing. It must suck to be so odd that you get that. You know irritable that you actually have to respect me and stuff. Must be tough on ya. So yeah…sorry bout that." He grinned feeling happy that he accomplished his boss's order.

Once again his answer was returned with silence. "Seriously, AT&T," he said to the company as if it were there beside him. He pulled his phone away to check, but just as it was an inch away he heard a low growl. It sounded like kill, but that didn't make any sense.

"I am not having mood swings as you so bluntly put it," Russia snapped on the other end.

Alfred eyebrows squashed together, "You sure, dude? Cause it sounds like you are."

He stopped at the intersection waiting for the red hand to go away and the white walking man to appear.

"I would like to educate you, Amerika. Men do not go through menopause. I realize your sick television has destroyed your brain but that mere fact should be common sense," he stated.

The deep authoritative voice on the other end caused that same heated feeling to appear. He frowned. Why did Russia have to sound like that when he insulted him? "Yeah, I know that. I just thought since were countries and all it might be different," he said, happy to start walking across the street to hopefully get rid of this uncomfortable feeling.

"You are an idiot," Russia responded with an exhausted sigh.

Again, it felt strange to actually hear those words directed at him and not behind his back (and not by Iggy). But he shot a glare at the random person walking by as if it were Russia. "We went through this already. I totally am not. I beat your ass I think that means I'm smarter then you," he said in his own threatening voice.

"В один прекрасный день вы будете избили меня, и я посмеюсь," Russia said in his happy voice.

"Blah. Blah. Blah. That's all I got, Russia. So I bet it's not important," he said out of spite. He was mad now. Why did he call Russia? He was just a jerk! So what if he had awesome hair and a nice form body.

"You will be off your throne soon enough," Russia stated.

"Thrown? Only you would consider it a throne. Oh Awesome! There it is!" he said as his eyes bugled at the site of McDonalds.

"Amerika, I very much want to hang up on you, but I find that rude so I will bid your farewell," he heard causing Alfred to blink out of his golden arches haze.

"Oh wait dude, you're coming to my birthday party next week, right?" he asked completely randomly. Why did he ask Russia? Happiness of seeing McDonalds and the odd heated feeling from the voice…maybe…

…

"No."

Alfred's hand stopped at the door to Micky Ds. For some reason it felt like something ripped internally. Why would someone not want to come to his party? It was his party. They were awesome.

"Oh. You're lost then, dude," he said trying to shrug it off, but it hurt. Did Russia really hate him that badly? He knew Russia didn't like him, but to not like him enough not to come to his party was something all together different. "Guess…I'll see ya whenever," he added.

"Da," and then he heard a click.

Alfred slowly pulled the phone away like it was virus. Someone told him no…but…it was July 4th. It was his birthday. His lip turned into a sad pout that probably resembled one of those abused dogs on the television ad.

"Excuse me," someone said and moved past him into the McDonalds.

He looked inside the McDonalds. It had a mixture of families and friends eating and laughing over a hamburger. It was filled with happiness…but…he rejected him in front of a McDonalds! What type of sick person does that! Alfred felt extremely sad, but hero couldn't show that. He just had to push through it. Russia didn't want to come it was his lost. He opened the door smelling the French fries immediately.

Yum.

Oh my god, it all smells great!

And in a snap, Alfred was back to normal running to the front of line to order the best food in the world.

* * *

><p>an: Yes, I realize fourth already past. I was trying to run my plot so I could post the next chapter (alfred's birthday) on the fourth, but things kept my life busy...so I'm off. Also, the reason I give more detail to Alfred's surroundings compared to Ivan is because I live in DC. I know where these locations are so I can actually write about them. I have never been to Moscow so my details there will never be as good. (Though hopefully next year I'll be there!) Hope every one like the short sweet chapt.

Translation: One Day you will be beaten by me, and I will laugh.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

a/n: Sorry for the long update. I was debating whether I wanted to write the entire party in one chapter or split it up. I decided to split it up so you guys still have something to read. Remember the events mentioned are the ones taking place around the beginning of July. I know that the US finally decided to enter Libya within the last month, but on July 4 they hadn't decided yet, so keep that in mind. Also while I am going to be throwing in current events here and there...I'm just to lazy to point them out. They also are not the main focus of the story so it doesn't really matter. ^^ Anyways enjoy! Oh and Thanks so much for the reviews!

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><p>You want to know what the best day in the world is?<p>

4th of July

Alfred loved his birthday. It was full of fireworks, country music, dip and dots, parades, and pure happiness. In the afternoon, he spent it with his boss and other key leaders in his country. They toasted him and feed him awesome food. There was no mention of the economic crisis, the Afghanistan war, the entrance of Libya, the debt to China, and the very fact that they were slowly becoming broke. It was the one day that America could shed the responsibility of a world power and just be him.

He liked the love he got from all of his people, but as always when spending time with the boss it was stuffy and formal. Miss…Mr…Mrs. Hilary was also watching him closely, which made him feel very uncomfortable during the entire lunch. Tonight! He got to have his party. He rented the roof of the hotel right near the Smithsonians so they would get an awesome view of the fireworks. He also linked up the US Air Force Band concert to his stereo so they wouldn't miss anything going on in the mall.

The roof was decorated with blue and red ribbons and balloons that were tied down. A large cake probably the size of Alfred himself sat in the center. A bar was already set up ready to serve drinks (primarily Budweiser since they were donating profits to the troops). The tables had confetti and sparklers ready to be lit and enjoyed once the sun went down. America also had his pocket full of pop rocks to scare Mattie with later. He inwardly chuckled. It was going to be so much fun! Now he just had to wait for everyone to show up.

* * *

><p>You want to know what the worst day in the year is?<p>

July 4.

Arthur hated Fourth of July, yet the stupid git had to always throw the most extravagant birthday parties. Sometime it felt like Alfred was purposefully bragging his independence to him. Yes, Arthur knew the whole debacle was 235 years ago, but it still annoyed him. He really cared for the boy, and he had rebelled against him. Maybe if Arthur had raised him for a longer period the git wouldn't be as stupid as he is today. Arthur shook his head as he walked into the entrance of the fancy hotel. He doubted any thing could have saved the world from Alfred's lack of common sense.

Arthur had his hands in his pockets as he stood in the lobby. He looked around the area that had a huge ceiling that was decorated with dark woods and beautiful pictures. Most of the hotels in London were not this large. He could hardly comprehend the amount of wasted space. He shook his head with a disbelieving smile. Alfred always had to have bigger and better.

To be honest, Arthur wasn't just irritated by the day, but at the whole Libya situation. Yes, America was helping more after their whole phone tiff, but they were still unable to defeat Gadhafi. It also didn't help that Russia was preaching that NATO shouldn't be involved in the first place and that they should let the African Union take a more leading role in the affair. Arthur held no grudges against the African Union (though many of the members held grudges against him), but he had dealt with Africa for years. They barely had control over their own countries, how could they be expected to handle the affairs of their neighbors. Africa was a colonial mishap that would forever come back to bite Arthur in arse, but he had to take some responsibility. He was a gentleman. If only America would handle the situation better. He had met America's boss on a few occasions. He was charismatic and quite formal. Arthur admired the man, but the man was not a military man. Barrack Obama was a Peace Corp type, and while that was admirable it was ineffective. He wished Alfred would push his boss for better military strategy. He wished Alfred would push his Congress for more funds, but did Alfred even realize all of these handling were going on?

No. Probably not. The stupid git was too focus on his own party.

"Sir, Mr. Jones' guest are suppose to accompany him on the roof," a man in full suit attire addressed him.

Arthur raised an eyebrow for a moment coming from his thoughts. "Ah yes. Thank you," he nodded and walked to the lift. He pressed the top button on the lift that had silk. Wait, the git has silk in his lifts! He complained about not having money, but his people spend it on lift's appearances. Arthur's fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>"Mon chere, this is quite a party," a voice whispered into his ear as an arm draped around his shoulder, "But your wine selection is rather…bland."<p>

Oh joy Francis was already more physical then usual. He must have drank on the flight here. Alfred tried to shrug out of the man too close grip as he reached for two Budweiser on a waiter's tray. "Come on, buddy. It's 4th of July. You don't drink wine on the fourth! You drink beer!" Alfred said with a full grin, handing on of the beers to Francis.

Francis tilted his head to side as he studied the beer with disgust. "Young Amerique, you don't actually expect me and the others to drink this stuff. I realize you have gotten your taste buds from England, but even you should know how disgusting this is," he said as he flipped his long blonde hair back.

Alfred gave him a confused look. "What are you talking about?" he asked as he twisted off the cap to the beer. "A cold bud is the best!" He then shot back the beer. It tasted exactly how his birthday should. Nothing beat a Budweiser. His party was also starting to pick up. About half of the countries he had invited had shown up already and he expected the rest to show up within the next half an hour. His party was going awesome. He already had a pile of birthday gifts on the long table waiting for him. He wondered if he got any new video games. That'd be sweet. There was one thing bugging him, but he didn't want to dwell on it.

"Oh poor Alfred. Arthur has truly burned off your taste buds, hasn't he?" Francis asked with a sad pat on his shoulder.

"Frog! I would never! If anything you poisoned him with your food!"

Alfred eyes widened as he turned with a grin to see Iggy walking (storming) over in their direction. His suit and hair, as always, seemed a bit of a mess, but he looked good nonetheless. Fourth of July was always a questionable time between Iggy and him…for obvious reasons, so Alfred hadn't been sure if the Englishman would even show up. Not to mention the tension over Libya. Iggy had hardly spoken to him, but he was here now!

"Poison? I would never, but I have no doubt people have tasted heaven from my delicious pastries," Francis said as he kissed fingers as if one of the treats was there. "But Arthur, we are all happy you are here. You can have this," he stated and shoved the beer into Arthur's hands.

Arthur looked at the beer with his thick eyebrow furrowed together. "What the?" he asked suspiciously before looking up at Alfred, "Please tell me this is not the only type of beer you ordered."

Alfred looked between the Frenchman and the Englishman. They both wore that disappointed look they would give him when he was younger. Where was Mattie when he needed to push the blame on someone? (If America were paying attention he would have noticed that Canada was testing a few appetizers right behind him.) "Why are you guys looking at me like that?" he asked, "Budweiser is the best!" He wore a huge grin, but his response only caused the Englishman to let out a sigh then rub his face.

* * *

><p>Thank bloody hell for Germany and Prussia's birthday present. Arthur sipped on the Krombacher beer as he sat at the bar. He watched with bare interest as the two female bar tenders in tight blue and white outfits served the other countries that came up. Arthur was debating about how to bring about the unwanted conversation. He knew Alfred would want to hear none of it on his birthday, but why did the spoiled brat think he came to this annoying event? It certainly wasn't to watch America prance around the party with laughter and dares.<p>

"Ah my poorly dressed friend, have you talked to him yet?" the sound of Francis's voice caused him to cringe.

Arthur greatly disliked France. He was a constant bother in his life, yet with their close geographical ties and similar foreign interest meant they shared a unique relationship. They weren't friends though! (We all know that's not true) They weren't! He snapped his head to face the man with feminine features, "No, I have not. I will do so when I believe the time is appropriate. Some of us must be gentlemen."

The Frenchman let out a chuckle as he stepped closer to Arthur at the chair. "Qui, but we both know that no time will be appropriate," the Frenchman said in almost a whisper. From a far it probably appeared two lovers were reconnecting not talking about political affairs.

Arthur immediately pushed the man back. "I can hear you just bloody fine from over there. You have far more to lose with this war then I do. If you wish for his action then you can bring it up," he snapped then took a chug of his beer. Stupid frog. France had been the major force in NATO for the Libya war. When he heard France had invaded, Arthur had laughed immediately. France going to war! Looks like Gahdafi wins! But as expected the bloody frog dragged him in and now Arthur was committed.

"But ma ami, you are far closer to Amerique then I am. If he were to listen to anyone it would be you," Francis responded quickly, completely unaffected by the shove or hard words.

Arthur gave him a deadpan look. Francis knew as well as he did that America listened to no one but himself.

"IS THAT GUITAR HERO! HOLY SHIT DUDE THAT'S ALMOST AS AWESOME AS I AM!" Prussia's voice boomed across the entire roof. Arthur and everyone else found themselves turning to the noise. There was Gilbert staring at the giant television screen being brought up onto the roof and being placed off to the side. One server was carrying a guitar hero box.

America was standing right next to him smiling like an idiot. The silver hair man turned to America and patted him on his shoulder. "AND HERE I THOUGHT YOU WERE TOTALLY BROKE!"

While conversations had carried on during Prussia first outburst the second one caused everyone to go silent. Everyone in the world knew of America's large debt, but no country spoke about it so causally and blunt. All eyes were focus on the birthday boy, and Arthur wondered silently how he would handle such a situation. A small part of him (that seem to grow on this particular day) felt the urge to stand up and protect him, but he watched quietly with the others.

America started rubbing the back of his head with that grin of his before he responded, "What are you talking about, dude? I'm rich! China's my personal bank!" America's loud laughter followed suit and destroyed the natural tension.

His laughter only increased when China shouted out, "Aru!" Luckily a few other people joined in laughter, which led to more laughter. Arthur only rolled his eyes.

And America wondered why the world did not take him seriously?

* * *

><p>Alfred had already creamed most everyone at guitar hero. I mean come on it was his game. The only one who could possibly beat him was Iggy because a lot of the songs were his, but Iggy had been silent at the bar for most of his party. Alfred felt bad. He had been so amazed his friend had come to the party, but he couldn't be surprised over Iggy's mood. (Well Iggy was ALWAYS in a mood) But today, he was always in a worst mood. Alfred also didn't fully know how to cheer the man up. He wanted Iggy to laugh and smile, but it never occurred. Not to mention, every time Alfred attempted to go over to Iggy he was pulled into another conversation. Alfred had always been easy to distract.<p>

He should talk to Iggy. He nodded to himself as he started to slide between people who had started dancing to the guitar hero music. He felt slightly tipsy from the amount he had consumed, but he definitely wasn't as drunk as some of the people here. As he pushed through he felt a soft hand on his wrist.

"Hello Alfred," a soft female voice said from behind him. He paused in his journey to see a young Asian woman decorated in a pink dress thing (kimono).

He grinned, "Hey Mei!"

A very small smile appeared on her lips. It was cute, but he knew better then to voice that fact. The females were all…sort of…intense. She might look small, but she stood her own when talking with Yao. She then nodded, "I just wanted to say Happy Birthday in person. You are bothersome, but in the majority of time, very supportive."

He blinked with a confused expression as he stared at her, "Uh thanks I guess." Seriously, couldn't people just compliment him without the backhanded insult? Well…whatever.

She nodded again, "Good. I do hope you enjoy your day." She then turned to walk away.

The girl needed to lighten up. It was a party after all. He grinned and grabbed her wrist. He spun her back around to face him in a very heroic way causing her body to come close to his. Her checks flushed, but Alfred didn't notice. He also didn't notice how close they were.

"What are you doing?" Taiwan said with slight surprise and agitation in her voice.

"I'm going to dance with you. It's a party! That's what you do!" he said as his light laughter escaped his lips as he swayed her back and forth with the music. She didn't seem please in the slightest. Her body was firm.

"This is not what I call dancing," she said in a huff as more irritation crawled in her voice.

"Chillax. I'm pretty good," he said sweetly, his blue eyes locking with her brown ones. He watched as those eyes slowly turned from protest to a sense of acceptance. He smiled at that, and felt as her body relaxed in his grip. They danced through the song and into the next. It wasn't anything like the grinding he would see at his clubs. It was more like a father dancing with their daughter. Playful. He even caught a smile and a small laugh escaped her lips as he spun her.

He was so caught up in dancing,, he was quite shocked when she was ripped from his hands. "Stay away from Taiwan," Yao said coldly as he wrapped his armed protectively over Mei's shoulders.

Alfred frowned for a moment. How could Yao still feel insecure about Taiwan? It was thirty years ago. "Yao, come on brah. We were dancing," he said as his smile returned to his face as he shrugged as if it weren't a big deal.

"Yes America, I am not blind," China responded with a blank expression, but his eyes were cold. Yao could appear so old and withered at time sometimes. These were the moments his age really appeared. Yao's hands moved up Mei's body and stayed firmly planted on her shoulder. "We will be on our way," he then pulled Mei, back to follow him.

"Yo, China. We we're dancin' calm down."

Taiwan struggled in the grip, "I agree, stop insulting America with your impolite manners." She then swatted his hand hard. Yao's eyes went big. He then brought his hand up to his mouth to console.

"That was quite rude!" he said in a squeal. (And there were times China did not act his age) China looked at the small girl with an ounce of fear.

"Be nicer," she scolded as she pulled away to look at him. Alfred smirked from behind. Part of him wanted to make a face at Yao just to taunt him, but he stopped himself. China started nodding to the girl as he continued to consol his sore hand.

America grinned, his hands settled on his hips, and he held his head high. He won again! No surprise. He was the hero. He always won, and China was put in his place. Yes, Taiwan had helped, but she was back up. The pride of saving the girl from China settled within him, but then he heard a familiar voice from the side.

"Why would China be nicer to Amerika if he is paying for the whore, da?"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

a/n: This is probably my longest chapter ^^ and also one of my favs to write. Drama. Drama. Anyways hope you like.

The music roared around them, some Katy Perry song with Kanye West. People were still dancing except for the few who were close to the debacle and they had stopped to see what was going on. The sounds of cars below could be heard in the distance. Laughter was happening around the bar. There was so much noise, but at this moment it felt silent to Alfred. Was Russia really here? A small part of him longed for it to be true. He hadn't realized how much of him wanted the jerk to come. The more logical side was pissed. How dare he come to his party and insult him!

He watched as a tall man in a suit wearing a long scarf came and stood next to China with his stupid grin. China looked up at him as he still held his hand to his mouth. His eyes giving the taller man a mutual nod of thanks before he shot a glare at the small girl who had scolded him.

Alfred couldn't see Mei's expression, but the way she had her hand fisted proved she wasn't happy. "I'm not a whore," she snapped quickly thinking the comment was directed at her.

Russia didn't look at her. His eyes were sorely focus on Alfred's as he spoke. "I do not know your personal affairs so I was not addressing you. I am sorry for the confusion," he said in that kind childish voice.

Mei's body relaxed in a moment. "Oh, I apologize Ivan," she said then paused, "Wait, Alfred's not a whore either." She glanced back at Alfred.

Alfred didn't speak. He was too angry to speak. His mouth formed a deep frown as his blue eyes glared back at Russia's violet ones.

Russia tilted his head to the side in confusion. "If I remember my English correctly a whore is someone who takes money to provide a service. Does not Amerika take Yao's money and provides China with business?" he asked innocently.

Mei giggled at the comment. "You're silly, Ivan. A whore sells her body," she informed him.

Ivan blinked as if confused by the statement. "Oh I am quite sorry. I did not know. I hope you are not mad, Amerika," he said with a childish smile.

Alfred's hand had turned to a fist at his side. Like hell he didn't know. He was such a liar. Why had he invited this asshole to his party? Why had the asshole decided to show up?

He punched him.

No. No, he didn't, but he for sure wanted to. Hadn't Alfred already apologized? Why we're they still on rough grounds? Their leaders seemed to be getting along fine, was it so difficult for them to as well?

"Why are you here?" Alfred stated in a deadly voice.

Yao finally dropped his hand from his mouth with a still 'It hurts' face, but it changed to a smirk when he noticed Alfred's anger. "It appears he is quite mad, aru," Yao commented. Alfred tried to ignore it. Yao and him had a strange relationship as it was. Yao threatened his position as a super power. He was growing so fast that it would be only a matter of time before he passed him. Alfred knew that he wasn't Yao's favorite country, and if Yao had a choice he would drop their relations in a heartbeat. The only reason why they understood each other was their same vision of capitalism. They both understood how far they could grow with it, and for that reason they were entangled in each other's affairs. Alfred would never forget when they were stranded on that island so long ago. They had imagined the growth with just a few buildings and staff. They could turn it into a hot spot for tourism. Yes, Yao had the entrepreneurial spirit that Alfred had ingrained in his bones. He assumed that was why Yao continued to invest in his country. And for that reason Alfred could never be fully angry with him.

No, why be angry with Yao who had faith in his growth when he could be furious at Russia who had faith in his collapse?

"Ah, it appears so," Russia commented to China before focusing on Alfred, "You invited me," he said with a smile, "It's only polite I make an appearance."

"You said you weren't coming," he remarked, "Or do you always enjoy lying?" Alfred couldn't help himself. Russia insulted him by rubbing salt in his wound; he would not sit back and let Russia push him around.

"Lying?" Russia responded innocently, "So dramatic over a mere mistake, da?"

"Yes, you are over reacting. Mei, we should leave before these two start another Cold War," China said with a dismissive look. "Ivan, we will be in touch, and Happy Birthday, Alfred."

Mei turned and gave Alfred a suspicious look before following Yao through the crowd that had slowly started to stop dancing and look at the fight.

Alfred ignored the stares and the crowd. He didn't care. "You know exactly what I'm talking about!" he shouted pointing his finger at Russia who continued to smile at him.

"I am afraid I don't. Is this the menopausal thing you were mentioning on the phone?" he asked.

Before Alfred could remark, Poland pushed himself to the front (I say 'him' lightly because he was wearing a pink frilly dress). "Oh my god, like you have menopause? Like I thought you were like a man," Poland squealed, "Oh we can like totally go shopping together now, and like find awesome make up to make those eyes pop!"

Alfred's eyes finally went wide when he realized Poland's remark and the amount of people staring at him. A slight blush crossed his face before he turned and glared to Russia. "Don't twist my words around at me!" he shouted.

Ivan continued to smile. Ugh! He wanted to punch that smile right off. He stepped forward his fist rising up his side. He felt something wrap around his waist, and he fought it as it pulled him back.

"Alfred, stop it. You're making a bloody fool out of yourself," he heard behind him.

Alfred teeth were clinched together as he tried to pull his eyes away from the annoying Russian to the Englishman behind him. He couldn't though. That damn stupid smile. He just needed one punch. He attempted a step forward, but the arms around his stomach only held him in place. He was the fucking United States of America, the United Kingdom should not be holding him back! This recession. This stupid lingering possibility of a double dip.

He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. He heard Russia giggling softly in front of him, but he tried to push it away. Russia opinion didn't matter to him. Why would it? Russia was an enemy defeated. He was just like any other country trying to suck up to him. Alfred didn't care. It didn't matter that Russia attempted to undermine his authority. It didn't matter that Russia insulted his culture. It didn't matter that Russia happened to give one decent kiss.

Stop it.

Alfred forced a grin then finally opened his eyes. He was distracted by Russia's silver hair that seemed dishevel around his forehead for only a moment before he focused on all the people staring at him. There were so many eyes looking towards him. They all relied on him. He couldn't fall a part in front of them. Hero's could never fall apart.

He turned to Poland with that same grin. "Yeah let's go shopping! As long as we only get red, white, and blue clothing," he shouted then started laughing. It was forced, but no one would notice.

He watched as his lighthearted attitude seemed to calm the rest of the nations until they laughed as well. He felt exhausted, but did not show it on his features. He was happy knowing that everyone else was not worried about his problems. If he could make everyone calmer, he would sacrifice his true feelings for a better atmosphere.

Poland though gave a pout as he crossed his arms over his chest. "That's not fashionable," he remarked.

Before Alfred could respond, Arthur was already pulling him away from the area. Iggy butted in as they left. "I wouldn't ask America for fashion etiquette in the first place, but I have to talk to him none the less," the Englishman responded in a farewell.

Alfred ignored the insult. His focus was on keeping up his grin as he watched Russia's calculating smirk. He had seen that expression too many times during the Cold War. It haunted his core, but it disappeared as England continued to pull him through the crowds until they were at the bar.

Iggy pushed him onto one of the barstools as Alfred's eyes still locked at the crowd where Russia probably was. Why had Russia come? Was he purposefully toying with his emotions? He didn't even notice his arms crossing over his chest, and the pout that was forming on his lower lip. This was his birthday, why did he have to come and ruin it!

"Alfred."

Damn Russia. Maybe, his boss was right. Maybe, Russia and him should stay out of the diplomatic talks and let the leaders work it out.

"Alfred."

Boehner would be right on his side though. Good old republicans always supported him. Those tea party folk were a little intense though.

"Alfred!" he heard a stern irritated voice on his side.

Speaking of tea party! He turned his head towards Iggy. "Yeah, what's up?" he asked.

Iggy had that exhausted expression he seemed to always wear with him. It was funny because Alfred couldn't remember Iggy ever giving that expression to him when he was younger, but now it happened every day. He did catch just the bare hint of worry behind his green eyes. He hated that look. "Alfred, are you okay?" he asked. The Englishman leaned in slightly. It was almost like he wanted to consol him.

Alfred gave a Cheshire grin. "Yeah old man, why wouldn't I be?"

He watched that glint of worry disappear in an instant and replace with anger. "You stupid git! You just had an episode with Russia. The last time you reacted in such a way was three decades ago," he shouted in a huff then mumbled, "I need another beer." Iggy waved the bartender down and pointed at the counter. The bartender understood immediately and found the German beer the man wanted.

He really hadn't spoken with Iggy in some time. If he had, the old man would know that decades was a far exaggeration to three weeks. Alfred almost wanted to tell Iggy everything. It was the same feeling he had when he had called Iggy so long ago. He wanted advice, but if he voiced it, it would mean that something actually was bothering him. "If anyone should be askin' that, it should be me. How many of those have you had?" he asked as the bartender put the beer right in front of the Englishman.

"Anything for you, Birthday Boy?" the girl in the small tight red, white, and blue dress asked with a wink.

Alfred shook his head before focusing back on the man in front of him. The Englishman only rolled his eyes as he brought the bottle to his lips before taking a swig. He slammed it down on the counter. "I'm not drunk, boy," he said, but Alfred noticed the swaying of his body.

He might not be drunk, but he was obviously tipsy. That one beer would probably push him over. Alfred laughed. "Sure ya not. You're the soberest guy I know."

"Sarcasm is unattractive and rude," he scolded, "You also should dress yourself properly." Iggy grabbed the ends of the American flag tie that Alfred had loosened at some point of the party.

Oh joy, daddy England coming out to play. Shit…it's his birthday…and….

Just as expected, Iggy's green eyes started to moisten. "You stupid brat. Why did you have to go and grow up," he said as he wrapped the end around itself to make the perfect knot. He then pulled the tie tight so it sat at his collar.

Alfred watched his hands before following them back to England's face. Every time he looked into those big green eyes he saw two Englands. He saw the man who had raised him as a boy, and the man who now stood in front of him as his friend. He felt his tie fall on his shirt as England's hands went back to his lap. His green eyes fell to his hands unable to lock with his. Alfred almost wanted to reach out and force him to look at him. It stayed silent for a moment until Alfred realized the strange tension that was coming. This was what happened on occasions. Iggy got drunk, and then they had their awkward moments. Alfred brought his hand to back of his head and scratched it innocently. "If I hadn't of grown up ya wouldn't have the awesome me in front of you," he answered and only received a snort and the roll of the eyes. He watched as England took another swig of his beer.

He felt this clenching in his chest. He hated seeing England like this. His hand twitched in the direction of England's wrist. He just need to grab it and pull him into a hug. Yes, it would be the heroic thing to do.

"If you're so awesome why aren't you helping me in Libya."

Alfred paused. The previous pain vanished in the blink of his blue eyes. "What?" Alfred asked. His eyebrows furrowed together in annoyance. He was bringing this up at his birthday. Was everyone trying to make his special day bad?

Swish. Swig. Gulp. Slam. "NATOs in Libya. Where the bloody hell are you?" Iggy shouted as he pointed his finger at Alfred.

"Iggy, don't start this shit with me. I'm there, but the bill hasn't gone through yet. I can't go against my people," Alfred almost growled out. Maybe, he did need that beer.

"Your people? Ha! More than half your people don't even know what's going on in the world. A bet most of your people don't even know where I am on the map. But my people! They're dying when you could actually put a large dent in this bloody damn war," Arthur said grabbing his beer again.

His blue eyes turned into slits. It was one thing to insult his policies, but it was another thing all together to insult his people. He took a deep breath trying to calm himself. "Arthur, you're drunk," he stated the fact.

"I'm not bloody drunk, you wanker," he shouted, "I'm right. Look I can prove it, right now. Come here. Come here." Arthur's body leaned on top of the bar counter as he waived the bartender over.

The girl came over with a smile and a quick step, "Can I help you sir?"

"Arthur," he said quietly.

" Yes, I was just wondering if you knew where the United Kingdom was?" he asked with a smile playing on his face.

"Just ignore him," Alfred told the girl, but she was too distracted by the cute smile Arthur was giving. English accents get them every time.

"Hmmmm," she said with a smile as she brought her finger up to her chin in playful thought, "Such a tough question, sir." She then winked at Alfred to tell him she had a handle on it. Arthur obviously didn't realize that these girls were in law school at Georgetown. "It wouldn't be the island right off the coast of France, would it? Oh, but that single island is only considered Great Britain. The entire United Kingdom encompasses Scotland, England, Whales, and Northern Ireland."

Arthur appeared very frazzle by the response. "Lucky guess," he said before turning to Alfred. "But that doesn't destroy my point. Most of your people don't have a clue what is going on in this world."

"Arthur, please you need to stop. You want me to get you help to your room?" he asked, trying to ignore the anger.

"No, I don't need any help! Why would I want to take it from you anyways! You would just drop me in an instance like always!" he shouted.

"You know that's not true, Arthur," he responded.

"You're not in Libya, git. I think that's bloody true," he said with a glare as he slammed his beer on the bar.

Alfred took another deep breath, but it wasn't helping. He would be in Libya once the bill passed. He would be there helping those poor people against the evil dictator because that's what heroes do. He just couldn't right now, but the fact that Arthur was yelling at him over this was ridiculous. Alfred went out of his way to help the country. "Africa's not my mess," he snapped.

"Pfft. You've had your fair shares. Don't think you're above us, just because you're younger. You play with others like all of us. If anything you use people more."

Was that what Arthur really thought of him? Was he just like Russia? He touched his chest automatically feeling the constricting feeling in his chest. It hurt. He felt the cross that was always on his necklace. It didn't help. "So what you're saying is that I am just power hungry in search of whatever in my best interest no matter who I have to step on to get it?" he said calmly.

"Exactly!" Arthur said, both his hands rose in the air like his normal response with his Football team scores.

"Okay then."

Alfred stood up from the barstool and turned away quickly from Arthur. He didn't want the man seeing the water in his eyes. It hurt. Did everyone really see him as an overbearing super power? Arthur…the man who had raised him, his friend, a man he had loved….he thought so little of him. His heart gripped his button down shirt, grabbing the cross underneath.

"Alfred?"

"Alfred! Where you going?"

He ignored it and kept walking away. Arthur was drunk, so he shouldn't take what he said to heart. No, people only say what they were already thinking. It meant it was true…

"America, come back."

It seemed like Arthur had moved from his place, but coming in his direction.

BOOM.

The sky erupted with color and people gave faces of awe and amazement as they moved to the edge of the roof. Alfred had already been towards the exit so he didn't get trapped in the swarm of people like Arthur did.

BOOM. BOOM.

Alfred gave a quick glance back at the sky. He watched as red sparkled beautifully along the stars. They were so low he almost could touch it. He wanted to feel the joy they would normally bring. He wanted happiness…

Worst Birthday Ever.

A single tear slid down his face and the red light reflected against it. He turned his head back down and exit. He walked out of the roof and into a small empty area. It normally held a small restaurant that would expand onto the roof itself. It was empty tonight, especially since everyone had moved to the fireworks. He just needed to take a turn to the hallway and get to the elevator.

He wiped his cheek then pushed in that direction. It was dark. They had dimmed the lights for the fireworks, so when he walked into the hallway and the light of a firework flashed through the window

He jumped.

There was Russia sipping back a bottle of vodka.

"Hello Amerika," he said with a less then enthused voice.

"I don't have time for you, Russia," he remarked as he started to strut past the man seating on a bench between two indoor plotted plants.

Russia smirked, "Ah da. The great Amerika is busy." The tall man swayed the mostly full liquor in his bottle. It was strange because he almost sounded drunk as well. How much had he drank in such a short time to accomplish that task or had he been drunk before? "But I do say, you look dreadful."

Alfred frowned, he shot him a glare as he continued to walk, but just as he past he felt a hand grab his wrist. "Let go," Alfred stated.

"You look like you need a drink, Amerika," the man said as he held out his bottle, "I have 'the good stuff' as you say."

Alfred eyes jumped from those violet calculating ones to the bottle. He desperately wanted some hard liquor to burn away the pain he was currently feeling. He turned around and ripped the bottle from the Russian's hand. He slung it back, and gulped as the burning sensation hit his tongue and the back of his throat. It hurt, and he felt the edge of his eyes tearing. He didn't stop though. He only continued to gulp the bottle down. How many shots was he taking? He wasn't sure at this point. He was a heavy weight so it would take a lot anyways.

He finally pulled the bottle away when there was less than a quarter left and handed it back to Russia. Russia looked at the bottle before smirking. "Thank you for leaving me so much, da," he said.

A small smile appeared on Alfred's lips. "You're a commie, you guys like sharing right?" he asked. The alcohol hadn't hit just yet, but the pain was slowly disappearing.

Surprisingly, Russia did not glare at the remark. He smiled too. "And you as a capitalist, like to take. It appears I get the stick end in this relationship," he remarked before taking another shot.

"Any relationship with me is awesome, you should just be excited to know me."

"You're arrogance constantly amazes me," Russia said quietly before leaning back on the wall behind him. Alfred couldn't pin it, but the man seemed emotionally drained as well. What had happened to him? He got to come to his party and ruin his time…why was he mopping?

"What's wrong with you?" he found himself asking before he could stop himself.

"It is none of your concern, Amerika," the Russian said to the ceiling.

"What are you talking about? You're mopping at my party when my party is suppose to be the best. I have to make sure you have an awesome time too," he said with a huge grin. He felt his weight shifting from one foot to the other. The alcohol was starting to hit him.

"You do not appear to be having an 'awesome' time," Russia commented. His body didn't move, but his eyes did connect with his.

Alfred pouted as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I am too."

A loud crackling sounded outside, and both glanced at the window at the colorful sparkling blue that had erupted. Russia only took it in for a moment before smirking and turning his glance at him. "If what you say is true wouldn't you be out enjoying the display of celebration," he commented.

Okay, he had him there. Damn it, he didn't want to be sharing his issues with Russia. His tricky wordplay was always annoying. "Pfft, I've seen fireworks before," he tried to say it like it wasn't a big deal, though the way his eyes always got that glow for fireworks was known to everyone.

Russia snorted, as he pushed himself up on the bench. "How to best describe?... It is like watching a fat kid say he has eaten cake in the past," he stated.

Alfred blinked. The room was starting to shift, so he shifted his weight again to balance. It would have made him dizzy if he wasn't so distracted with Russia. "Did you just snort at me?" he asked in complete bewilderment. He then burst out laughing. He never heard such a noise come from that man.

Again…Russia smiled, though Alfred didn't notice. "You are so young."

Alfred was holding himself up by the knees when he heard the comment. He stopped. The previous pain hit. He grabbed his chest, almost wanting to rip out his heart. "I really wish people would stop saying that," he stated as he let out a sigh. Alfred felt like he was on his own personal rollercoaster. He pushed himself up off his knees to see Russia's eyebrow traveling up his forehead in confused interest.

"Da, but it is a fact."

"You know just cause I'm young doesn't mean I'm inexperienced."

"I do believe the two are synonyms, Amerika."

"No, they're not. I know my language better then you."

"That is questionable."

"Shut up, Russia. If I'm so inexperienced why is this world so dependent on me."

"You are very wrong, silly Amerika. I am certainly not dependent on an insecure child."

"Ha! You're the one sucking up to me! Let me guess why you're here! Boss told you that you got to come and play nice. I bet the present you got me was something huge and extravagant. Why are you sucking up if you didn't need something from me?"

Pain.

That's what Alfred felt when Russia punched him hard in the face. When and how Russia got up to do that was lost to him. It had happened too fast to comprehend. If he wasn't already loosing balance he would have stayed up, but instead he landed on the floor. He caught himself with one hand; the other went up to his mouth to test if his jaw had been dislocated. Admittedly, he probably deserved that. He was taking his anger on England out on Russia. When he didn't feel his jaw move under his grip he looked up at Russia. The man had a flash of anger behind his eyes, but it was masked with his fake smile. He wasn't entirely sure what button he had pressed too hard, but it obviously was an easy spot to hit.

"Okay I went a bit too far on that," he said stretching his jaw. His hand fell from his mouth. He went to push himself up, but paused when another flash of fireworks paraded above in the window. He ended up just pushing himself into a sitting position: legs out and hands behind his back holding his weight.

His eyes went big when they took in the fireworks. He loved fireworks. There was so much power and beauty, and it was only there for an instant. The fleeting moment made it all more memorable in the long run.

"Is that Amerika's attempt at apology?" he heard a confused Russian voice.

Alfred felt a grin slowly coming across his face as he continued to watch. It was accompanied by slight pain. "Nope. You hit me so I think that's a fair trade," he commented not even looking at Russia.

Alfred didn't notice, but Russia had rolled his eyes again before they landed on him. If Alfred pulled his eyes from the window he would have caught the strange look he was gaining. It seemed like Russia was studying him carefully.

Red. Blue. White. Red. Oh look they made a heart in the sky. He heard the music that they matched to the fireworks in the distance. Frank Sinatra. Good Choice, Air Force.

"You really enjoy them, da?" he heard the question and quickly glanced up at the man who was still towering over him, almost like a predator.

"Duh," he remarked before his eyes latched to the sky. He realized that wasn't much of a response so continued, "I have always loved the sky. When I was little I would climb the tallest tree and stare out over the vast country. The sky always felt so close my hand, but I couldn't reach it." A small smile came across his face at the memory. Why he felt the need to tell Russia this was beyond him. Maybe the alcohol. "When the Wright brothers came, they helped me achieve my goal, but even after flying….I wanted to get higher."

He smiled for a moment, but then frowned as he remembered what his boss had told him a few days ago. It was official. NASA would not continue their space exploration because of cost. He understood. Their deficit was far too large to continue…but…

He looked at Russia. "Thank you though."

Russia face went expressionless. His violet eyes were attempting to decode what America had said. "I do not quite understand. What is this thank you for?" he asked.

Alfred grinned, "If it wasn't for you I never would have made it to Space." He might despise Russia, but the man had help pushed him to accomplish his dream. Russia went silent and completely still. Alfred wondered if he had frozen him. Well…whatever. Alfred stretched his arms in the air. His head was starting very light headed, everything was spinning, but he felt giddy. He then laid down on the floor and stretched his arms above him again before bringing them under his head as a pillow. His white button down shirt rose up slightly revealing a glimpse of his hipbone, though Alfred had no idea. Russia eyes though took it in.

"You are quite strange, Amerika," Russia said from above, still awkwardly not moving.

"Nah, I'm not. I just have a dream. We all have dreams," Alfred focused on the large man. Russia's skin looked like marble. Each time a firework flashed it would reflect off his skin in a way that it emphasized all of his form. His silver hair caressed his face full of color. Alfred eyes followed the strong jaw line and finally settled on his lips. They probably still tasted like snow. What was he doing?

"Da," he heard the one word response and then watched as Russia's eyes traveled to the window as well.

Alfred would admit, he never could read an atmosphere. But the silence that was created felt tense even though they weren't currently fighting. Actually, this was probably the first time in years they were having an actually conversation. Russia still wasn't looking at him, so Alfred used the freedom to give the man a one over. He took in the suit and how the clean cut fitted around his obviously muscular body. A very attractive man…too bad he was an asshole. Then again, who in this world wasn't? He didn't have to love the man to have fun….

A quick kiss…how bad could it be? The sex probably would be pretty good with the tension they had for decades. It also would piss off Iggy. You had an incident with a non NATO member! NATO this. NATO that. NATO blah. Blah. Blah. Alfred frowned. He started NATO. Why the hell was he getting yelled at by them? It reminded him of the United Nations. He paid the United Nations ridiculous amounts of money, yet all the countries feel the need to use the power to undermine his authority.

Being a superpower sucked sometimes, but you had to deal with the shitty stuff as a Hero.

"Amerika," Russia called, and Alfred's eyes whipped to his face. The Russian was still staring at the window. He looked so intelligent and Alfred couldn't help admire the natural ere, "I understand that your NASA is closing their space shuttles."

Alfred frowned at the statement. Of course, Russia finds away to take what he loved and negatively twist. Forget all previous good thoughts of Russia. Where is his red pen? He needed to cross out all attraction. "Yes," he said cautiously.

"My government does not plan to do such a thing," Russia continued. Just rub it in, Russia…thanks a lot jerk. "If you would like you may travel to your stars on our ships."

Stupid Russ….wait what? Did he…? Alfred's eyes grew to the size of saucers as a giant grin appeared on his face. "Are you serious?" he said pushing himself up off the ground.

Russia finally glanced down at Alfred, a small humored smile danced on his lips. "Why would I state it if I were not serious, Amerika?" he asked.

"Bro," America started as he tried to stand, but he sort of tripped stand because of his lost of balance. He pointed his hand at Russia, his finger touching the man's chest. "You're like totally awesome! I mean that's nice!" His other hand landed on Russia's shoulders. Alfred stepped closer. He almost wanted to hug the man. "Thank you! Thank you! Or how do you guys say it over there with your weird language. Spa…something about a spa and a bar. Spacibaer? Something like that."

A light giggle (which is strange hearing from a man as big as Russia) escaped as the violet eyes looked down at him. "I will ignore the insult and the failure of pronunciation because you attempted," he stated.

Alfred looked up into those eyes as he finally realized how close he was. All he had to do was stand a bit higher and he could lock lips with the man…but how would he react? He would probably be punched…then again, Russia had kissed him first. Screw all this thinking. He was the United States of America. He didn't need to think.

"Just so you know I'm still going to hate you after this," he commented. Russia opened his mouth to say something in confusion, but Alfred was too fast. He leaned up and locked his lips to Russia.

He was right. They still did taste like snow.

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><p>an: Obviously the next chapter is sex, but I haven't decided yet which perspective I should write it from. Russia or America. If you have a preference please tell me and I'll weight it in. Also I love hearing other people's opinions of story.


	10. Chapter 10

a/n: So this didn't go the exact way I planned. The characters sort of pulled me in a different direction. They are both just too stubborn. Hope you like! Oh and thanks for the reviews! I decided to go with both perspectives. Curious, you sort of read my mind lol.

* * *

><p>Teeth and tongue clashed as he slammed America into the wall of his hotel room. Ivan could not explain what was taking place. He knew for certain he couldn't explain how they had managed to travel down four floors to his hotel room and unlock the door. America had kissed him, and something had taken over. America had kissed him?<p>

Only twenty hours ago, Ivan had been debating on even coming. He had been standing outside Putin's home nervously. The guards had already informed Putin of his presence so he was forced to wait patiently. Meldvedev told him earlier that Putin had wanted to talk to him. When Ivan had politely inquired why, his boss did not even look at him. He merely stated, 'You're behavior.' Ivan's fingers hidden in his gloves began to fidget. He was quite certain he would not enjoy this conversation. Meldvedev did not seem please with his decision to stay absent from America's birthday. He must have told Putin. Putin lived in an extravagant home compared to his other people. He sat on a few acres of land and had it protectively fenced off. Ivan never took note to the fact of Putin's better situation. After all, the man saved him after the collapse. If Putin had not been there at the end of the USSR, when Ivan lost all his friends and family and was reacquainted to the feeling of loneliness, his little shred of sanity would have torn in half. He owed everything to Putin, and for that he greatly respected the man. His violet eyes feel to the ground. He hoped the former boss would not be angry with him.

The door swung open. "Vanya, as always it's a pleasure," a voice stated and his eyes slowly traveled up. Putin was wiping some type of black substance off his hand with a white cloth. He seemed very casual at the moment wearing only an undershirt, but still having his black slacks and expensive shoes.

He nodded politely, "Yes, it is." He did not want to do anything deemed improper. The man almost seemed saintly. The man wore a smirk as he looked over him.

"When I look at you Vanya I am reminded of my old age," he said causally before opening the door, "Come in, I am in the garage."

Ivan watched as Putin began traveling into his large house. He followed. He kept his head lower, even though part of him enjoyed being in this home. It appeared newer then any other object in Russia. He heard the footsteps and followed in their direction as they traversed across wood floor and down a hallway until the sound of another door opened. He lifted his head as he walked into the white wall garage. There in the center sat a bike looking contraption, a Harley. He had seen the vehicle before, but had never dared to ride one.

"I am going to ride this across the country to campaign. I believe I will handle my mid life crisis and my next election with a simple turn of the key," Putin let out a laugh as he grabbed the tool and then sat on the floor to get closer to the bike's engine.

Ivan found himself blinking with a set of confusion. Putin was very different from most of his people. Most of his people were very…cold. The uncaring winter through the years made them blunt and focus, but Putin was so different. He laughed easily and had a charismatic air to him. He also always wore that calculating smirk when speaking to other countries' bosses. It was hard for his people and himself not to be swept away by the man's charm.

"You plan to ride the American death contraption," Ivan stated from his corner near the door. He never had been one for the mechanics.

The tool Putin had been using was set to the side as the man continued to stare at a place on the bike. Ivan felt tense as he realized, Putin's mood had just shifted dramatically. "Ah that is right? You are here because we must discuss this business over the United States," he spoke calmly, the teasing nature in his voice gone in an instant.

"I was not informed, but I assumed," Ivan responded with a curt nod that was not even seen by the man.

"Ivan, do not misunderstand me in what I say. I have told you since I've first met you that the United States is an over bearing country that abuses their power. They are living beyond their means and are shifting part of the weight of their problems onto the world economy. They are living like parasites off the global economy and off the monopoly of their dollar. With that said you should be attending this party," he said flatly before reaching down and grabbing his tool to fix up the large bike.

Ivan found himself staring at the man in front of the black bike. Putin had just insulted the brat country and he now expected him to go celebrate his birthday? It made no sense. They should not be bending their methods for the country that was slowly destroying the world. "Sir, it appears I have misunderstood."

"Yes, I expected as much," Putin stated towards the bike as he picked up his tool again, "Let me put it in a simpler term. It snows quite often here, yes?"

Ivan found himself becoming even more confused. Putin had lived here. He knew it snowed. Why was he asking such a simple question? "Yes," he agreed from his spot in the corner.

"Though the snow is cold, kills harvest, and sometimes leads our wonderful country into starvation, we have never decided to make it stop snowing," the man said as the sound of his metal tool clacking with something echoed in the room.

"We cannot stop the snow. Weather is not in our control. It would be very unwise to assume it was," Ivan commented as he remembered all the many times he wished he could chase away the coldness.

"Exactly. The climate is not in a realm of power. We can only learn from our environment and adapt. As you know, we as Russians are quite ambitious in coming out on the top. Therefore, we do not let the weather halt our growth," Putin said dropping the tool on the ground. He then gripped onto the bike and pulled himself up.

"I do not understand what the snow has in common with Amerika," Russia stated with a trace of annoyance.

"Simple Vanya," Putin turned around to face him with a calculating smirk, "We unfortunately live in an environment where Amerika's actions influence the world. I am certain you understand that we currently cannot change that environment. We can however adapt to it."

Ivan eyebrow rose with understanding before he nuzzled his chin deeper into his scarf to hide his mouth as he thought over the words. He understood. He didn't like what understood, but he did. "The rules are set we must then win based on the rules," he said through his scarf.

"Yes," Putin stated as he wiped his hands that were slick with oil on his white undershirt. "We play by the rules until we eventually have the power to change them."

Ivan nodded into his scarf. He probably appeared very childish at the moment. He knew what his boss…no former boss…was saying. He greatly wanted to argue against the facts. He never wished to see Amerika again, but Putin was right. Putin was always right.

"If the only rule is that America influences the world, what is the best way for Russia to win?" Putin asked him. Ivan glanced up and watched the tall man walking towards him. Strange that Ivan had met the man when he was far shorter then him. Humans' lives were so short, but even though the man had lived far less years then him, Ivan felt undying respect. "Russia must influence America," Putin stated that answer as his hand went to ruffle Ivan's silver locks. "If Russia has influence in America, we influence the world."

Hands attacked his suit jacket as a warm tongue slipped into his mouth. Was this what Putin meant by influence? His mind worked through his sluggish thoughts. No. Putin probably did not mean this. Putin would probably be very disappointed in how far he had fallen. He wanted manipulation not pathetic lust. But the idiot had kissed him, how was he supposed to respond to such an action? The image of America lying on the ground, his hipbone exposed as he appeared so vulnerable, popped to the front of his mind. America appeared completely vulnerable. He wished he had caused such an appearance, but he hadn't. England…England held such a high power over the boy. He gripped his fingers into America's forearms and pressed himself harder against the other's chest. His tongue then pushed against the young man's in a fight for dominance. America would not use him. The man was not manipulating him. Ivan was using America. He was doing just as his former boss had asked. He was gaining influence over him. He would get the power that England had. He would make America beg for him. He would make America want to please him, and once he had control over America he would have control over the world. Yes, the world. The world would love him again. His friends would come back home. He just had to play by the rules.

His lips left the boys mouth and moved to his jaw. He could not quite understand how every time his lips parted from the skin they felt like they were burning. It caused a tingling sensation that seemed to spread through his body. America was so hot. It was like touching the sun. His lips moved down to his neck where he felt his pulse against his tongue. He swirled his tongue around the rhythmic pounding that seemed to speed up at each moment. He heard a grunt escape the man and a smirk played on his face at the sound. Yes, this was the type of control he deserved. He wanted to bite down on this man's heart and hold his life in his hand. He didn't. Part of him wanted to hit the man until he went unconsousious, another wanted to hear the man screaming in pleasure. It felt as if both ideas fought with one another.

He bit down on his neck, hearing a sharp hiss as his hands moved down the American's waist. The taste of iron evaded his tongue. He let the blood linger in his mouth. He always knew America's blood would taste sweet to him. His lips left the spot and moved underneath the blonde's earlobe. "You taste like sweets, Amerika. You eat too much ice cream. It is not surprising you are getting fat," he said, before forcefully shoving his leg in between his legs. America was his toy now. He would taunt him as he pleased because Ivan was now in control. He smirked when he felt America's length pressed hard against his thigh through his pants. Ah yes, that control…this influence. This must have been what Putin was talking about. The American was a capitalistic pig that was disgusting to sleep with, but he had to play by the rules.

Friction. There was so much friction. Chest against chest. Hands on skin. Leg on…oh god it all felt good, even the bite mark that Alfred knew would be on his neck. The deep voice caused a shiver to travel down his skin, but the words hit him out of his drunken lust. He finally realized what Russia was doing. He was trying to dominate this. Nah uh. Like hell that was going to happen. America had only been on bottom once in his entire life, and he had no care to remember it. He was the hero. He didn't go on bottom. "Well what's your excuse?" he remarked to the comment, "But maybe having something sweet would actually grow you a heart." He then roughly pushed Russia's shoulder's to slam him into the wall across from them.

His hands traveled to his button down shirt. He was so thankful that Russia wasn't actually wearing a coat today. It made everything easier then trying to lug that heavy thing off. He wanted so much to touch the man's skin. It felt like ice and he wanted to feel it everywhere. He got the first buttons undone then decided screw it. This process was taking to long, and America was never a very patient man. He gripped both sides of the shirt and ripped open. The sounds of buttons on the floor echoed, but his mind didn't even notice them. His hands dipped into the shirt. A sensation settling in his lower region flooded him as he dragged his fingers along the definite muscles. God he was going to fuck Russia so hard tonight. You are really going to sleep with your nemesis. You know first hand that there is something mentally unstable with him. He will probably use this against you in the future. The smirk that had been playing on Alfred's face faltered at that thought of logic. It was that very logic that had kept him from doing this a long time ago. Russia was intelligent and cunning. There seemed to be no limits to how far the man would go. He would never forget that moment in the Atlantic Ocean miles off from Cuba. The conversation they had as he searched their boat. The man never stopped smiling. They were about to blow up the world and the man kept smiling on him like they were close schoolgirls. His hands went to Russia black belt as he began to undo it. Screw it. Russia was insane, but America was awesome. Yep, I'm totally awesome.

"Impatient, da?" he heard and looked up to the Russian who still wore his scarf. He had a smirk on his face that Alfred had seen a feel times. He felt Russia's hand gripping tightly into his waist. He would probably have marks there to.

He grinned, "It would be rude for me to keep a lady waiting." His blue eyes locked on Russia's lips waiting for…yep there it is, the falter of the smile. He then leaned in and kissed the man hard on those lips. He enjoyed the fact that he was the only one to ever get that response to him. Every one else only received the childish smile from Russia, but he saw the anger. He bit on the man's lip, pulling it into his mouth as he continued to unbutton Russia's slacks. The Russian then roughly pulled his hips against his. It caused America to bite a bit a harder as he felt a moan escape his lips. Oh god, the friction. He loved it. His hands had managed to undo the pants, but were forced out of the way as his hips grinded with the Russian's.

He felt Russia's hands travel around his waist and dip into his own loose slacks as they continued to kiss and rub. The hand felt cold as it touched his skin as it traveled into his boxer and Alfred found himself pressing hard against the man on the wall as the man cupped his butt check. The finger then dipped…

"Woah woah woah," America shouted and pulled away from him forcing Ivan's hands out of the younger nation's pants. "What are you doing?" the boy asked him with a slight glare. His glasses were falling down his nose and his hair was a mess. He so wanted to just bury that face into a pillow as America begged for him.

He was slightly confused by the outburst. "Preparation or would you rather me put it in dry?" he stated nonchalantly.

"No way!" America shouted and pushed even further away, but Russia kept his grip onto America's waste. He still did not quite understand why America was being so immature about this. Was he a virgin? He was the former colony to the biggest prude in the world.

"Are you a virgin, Amerika?" he asked innocently, but he couldn't help the expanding smile. Oh how truly naïve America was, and if Russia had the honor of taking the country's virginity he would do it gladly.

"What?" America asked confused, "No dude, I'm 235 years old in the body of a nineteen year old. Teenage hormones for that long doesn't get you that far, but that's not what I'm talking about!" America then pushed on Ivan's chest to get away. Ivan would admit that the strength behind the push was going to cause bruises, but he kept his hold in the boy's waist.

Ivan lifted an eyebrow at the comment. He would admit that a small part of him was disappointed in that knowledge. "Then I don't quite understand the problem," he stated, almost getting tired of the boy's immature show. He should just tie the boy to the bed.

"Bro, I'm the hero. Heroes don't do the bottom. It's totally not cool," America responded.

Ivan blinked a moment in confusion. His hands letting go of his waist and America finally escaped his grip. It took a moment for his mind to process that information. When it finally did, he started giggling. America actually thought he was going to be on bottom? The boy truly lived in a delusional world. Once Ivan had control of his laughter he pushed himself off the wall. His chest was exposed and his pants were riding very low on his waist revealing the tight black boxers he currently was wearing. America of course was wearing red white and blue boxer that matched with his red white and blue tie that was loosened around his throat. He needed to take off more of the boy's clothing, but first he had this current dilemma. "So let me see if I understand you correctly. You believed that you would have me on my knees as you thrusted into me?" he asked causally. Even stating it aloud made Ivan want to laugh again.

Ivan had not been on bottom since the Mongolian Empire. He certainly would not be starting tonight, and he certainly would never allow the American in a power position over him. On his knees for America? It was a pathetic.

"I mean dude, I hadn't figured out the position yet, but yeah pretty much," America said with a shrug as he scratched the back of his blond hair.

"Nyet," Ivan stated. He almost just wanted to punch the blond in hopes that his brain might start working. "I apologize but that fictional allusion will not become a reality."

They both stood there in his hotel room, partially clothed. Ivan stared at the America waiting for some loud response, but didn't get any. Was the boy actually thinking? His eyes dipped down as he took in the man's form. A more sinister part of him really just wanted to force it.

"Well this is awkward," the boy voiced, "So what do we do now?"

Ivan eyes locked with the blue ones. This man was such an idiot. Ivan had already resolved to himself what was going to happen tonight. He hadn't put himself through the party for nothing. He hadn't sat back and watched as nations causally had fun together while everyone ignored him either out of fear or indifference. It hurt that even his own sisters avoided him at the party. It hurt that the only person who would give him the time of day was China and Turkey. He was trying so hard to strengthen alliances with outside countries. He was trying so hard to make friends, but when he stepped into America's country, most nations seemed to forget about him. They all became transfixed by the 'super power'. Ivan hated it. He hated how the boy could have so many more friends then him when he trampled over everyone. He did not come to this party to watch. He came to better his relations with the brat. If the boy thought he could tease him and walk away, he would be proven wrong.

He walked over to America and wrapped his hand around the back of his neck before yanking the man's lips against his own. His other hand went to the small of America's back as he forcefully pulled the man towards his body. America body was at first stiff, but responded appropriately. Good. As always the boy was a challenge, even in the simplest of actions. Ivan didn't know if he liked that factor or not. He pulled away with a small smile. "If you do not wish to continue then it is your choice," he said, as he made sure to rub his thigh against the American's groin.

He watched as America swallowed back a moan as his eye became half lidded. "You damn communist bastard," America remarked as his fingers dug into the man's shoulders. "You always liked to play dirty."

Ivan smirked as he brought his lips just underneath the boy's earlobe. He knew that the boy could feel each breath, because he noticed the shivering reaction to it. This was control. Ivan had to hold back his own pleasure as he soaked it in. His hands moved to the edge of America's pants. "If I remember correctly, you kissed me," he said in a hush whisper.

"You kissed me first," Alfred protested half-heartedly. It was the first time he had voiced that statement since it happened, and he felt part of his heart jump as he waited for a response. He had been wondering about the action for so long.

Ivan paused in his movement when he heard the statement, so America had been thinking about him. "And what is the point you are attempting to make?" Russia stated as his hand dipped into the front of America's pants. His fingers touched his hard length gently before gripping around it. He heard a moan escape the boy's throat and felt his own length twitching.

He began to slowly stroke him from within his boxers. He heard America gasp as the boy molded into puddy into his hand. The boy's fingers dug into his shoulders trying to hold himself up. "Do not lie and say you do not enjoy this, but if you wish for me to leave, I can," he stated waiting for a response.

"Damn it," Alfred mumbled as he felt the hand continue along him. This was exactly what happened in 1812. Damn his body for being so responsive. Oh god, it just felt too good. His mind attempted to find reasons not to do this. He ran through his sluggish thoughts about this being Russia. He was reminded of all the problems…but his mind kept returning to the fact that it felt so good. He shouldn't do this, but if he stops…then…ah. The Russian began to stroke him harder.

He was either way to drunk or flooded with too many endorphins to think logically right now. His head fell into Russia's shoulder as he continued to moans continued to escape his mouth. He was so close. Oh wow, the fingers began to massage as the pace became quicker. He felt the Russian rub his thumb on the tip. "Your body appears to want me here, but since I have heard no response…" Russia remarked just as Alfred was about to reach his climax. Alfred nails dug into the man's shoulder as he felt so close to falling off the edge only to have the feeling disappear. Russia had let go of him, and Alfred's only response was eye widened shock. Wait..what?

"You should leave then," the man stated and pulled away from Alfred's grip. Alfred's breathing was heavy and he had to support himself on the wall so he wouldn't tip over. He watched as the half naked Russian walked over to his bed with his scarf still wrapped around his neck.

Alfred opened his mouth to say something, but it was too degrading. His length stood full height in the exposed air, and he greatly wanted to satisfy himself, but he stayed firmly in his place. His eyes narrowed as he glared at Russia. He was being a totally manipulative bastard.

Ivan waited patiently for the begging. America would beg for him after all. It was only expected. When he didn't hear movement, he turned and sat on his bed causally. "I thought you were leaving?" he asked with a small smile.

He noticed America's glare, and watched as his frown turned into a smirk. It was America's look from the Cold War. A calculating smirk with a fierce blue glare. He remembered all too well. It almost caused Ivan's smile to falter as he remembered all the actions that usually took place after that look.

"You think I am that easy?" America asked with that glint his eyes.

There was a phrase he had learned long ago: actions speak louder then words. While America's statement seemed harsh, his longing body proved his true desire. "Da, I do," he answered simply.

America scoffed as he walked over to him. Ivan couldn't help the grin from appearing on his face. Oh silly America, you really can be puddy in my hands. "You know, I'm not sure if I like any of your smiles," the boy commented as he walked closer and closer. Ivan eyes locked with the blue ones as his head began to tilt up to the now taller American.

"It is because you are too paranoid and believe I cannot be friendly," Ivan answered still smiling at how wonderful this was going. Control. Pure control.

He felt America's hand slide into his hair, which seemed almost to gentle. Had he broken the American's will? Oh this couldn't go better! To think he wasn't going to come to this ridiculous party. The grip tightened in his hair and he felt his head yanked upwards. He frowned immediately, but before he could voice anything, America's lips had attacked his. This wasn't exactly what Ivan had imagined. He had expected more begging, not aggression. The American's lips left his and moved to his chest. It caused his heart to jump with how close the boy had gotten to his neck. He did not want to remove his scarf, especially not for America. He felt biting, sucking, nipping, all along his chest cause an unsettling feeling to emerge. He forced himself to make a sound. America would not get a sound out of him. "Ha-have you become impatient, Amerika?" he asked, and cursed himself for the stutter. He felt the lips smirk as they moved down his stomach.

"I think since I've waited over a century I'm pretty damn patient," America said as Ivan felt himself freed from his boxer.

Before his mind could even comprehend that statement, he felt himself engulfed by America. He felt America's lips press tight against his length as his tongue began to run along this side. Ivan's hands flexed into the sheets on the bed as he bit his bottom lip almost innocently. Was America? He was? His mind was warped in confusion and pleasure as the boy continued to suck. He felt a hand grasp around the base and begin a slow rhythmic stroking as well. Oh..this was very unexpected…but…very good. He tried to hold it back as long as he could, but a moan eventually did escape his mouth. America was on his knees in front of him. This was almost a fantasy. How much vodka did he drink on the flight over? Quite a bit, but Ivan still felt pretty sober. How much did America drink? He felt most of his length disappear into the heat. He was very close. America would swallow it like good boy. Yes, he definitely would.

Oh…huh?

Cold air hit his exposed hard length as America stood from the ground, a taunting smirk playing across his face. Ivan felt so confused as his climax was just painfully pulled away from him.

"Well I'll see ya later, brah. I'm outta here," America winked at him as he buttoned his pants and pulled his flag tie back down into place.

Ivan frowned immediately when he realized what he was doing. He was flipping the table on him. His hand tightened into his sheets. That stupid American! Did he really believe that he could be driven into action by the simple card of lust? Ivan's length twitched in expectation, and he had swallow back his nerve to call the American back. No, he would not lose.

"Goodbye America," he said with a force childish smile. No, I will not beg. You will beg.

Alfred took a quick glance back to see the mostly naked Russian on the bed. He wanted to just feel the friction. He wanted the strange heat and cold confliction the man created on his skin. He grabbed his suit jacket on the ground near the door. "Thanks again for space," he said as he opened the door slowly, hoping the man would call out to him. He would not allow Russia to have power over him. No, never.

"Of course," came out a response and then silence.

Alfred knew if he stayed any longer, Russia would call him out on it. Alfred mentally focused then hoofed himself through the door. "Peace," he said before slamming it shut. As soon as the door was closed the grin fell off his face. He rubbed his hand through his hair as he took a deep breath. Florida was pressing tightly in his pants. He would need to take a very cold shower once he got home…very cold.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. They were awesome. I am happy to know everyone was as frustrated as me, but you know it fits the characters too well I couldn't push against it. I promise you though! Eventually it will happen. About how America lost his anal virginity, I will go into more description of that in a different chapter. It's how I picture it at least. I want to explain/warn the pairings in this story. RussiaxAmerica, FrancexEngland, USXUK, RussiaXChina, Past JapanxUS, Slight TurkeyxRussia. These are the main ones that will appear quite often. Of course there are more with other countries, like obviously ItalyxGermany, but they don't affect the plot. Anyways I hope you enjoy. Next chapter is America.

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><p>Ivan sat on the hotel bed staring at the ground. America was still an immature brat. Did he really think that Ivan would run after him? Ivan was patient even though his fury increased with every second since the American had left. His length twitched in anticipation, but it would receive no attention. Ivan certainly was not going to touch himself while thinking about the boy. Degrading. He closed his eyes for a moment as he calmed his agitated nerves. He just had to be patient. He could gain influence over America. He opened his eyes before stuffing himself back into his underwear. He then stood from the bed and pulled up his slacks. Just as he buttoned his pants a knock sounded at the door. A very loud aggressive and impatient knock.<p>

He smirked. Oh look at that. America's will truly isn't that hard to break. He walked over towards the door with a new bounce in his step. He should have left his pants off, he thought, as he felt how uncomfortably they constricted him. His hands reached the doorknob and he easily pulled the door open with a child like smile. "You are back so quickly. It appears you do miss-" he paused as his eyes landed on a shorter blond with thick eyebrows.

The Englishman had a death glare as he pushed past Ivan. "America! Get the bloody hell out of here you twit!" the man shouted as he stormed into the room.

Ivan blinked in confusion as his eyes still stared out into the hallway. He finally turned around to see England storming through his room in a drunken mess. "He is not here. Is there something else I can help you with?" he asked in a happy tone, but he was holding back his anger.

England just shot him a glare before storming to the bathroom and throwing open the door. "Alfred! I know you-ll are here. Japan s'told me he saw you with him. What the fuck are you doing with him anyways? I swear you can't s'take care of yourself," the man growled as he opened up the shower curtain. When he saw the shower was empty his large eyebrow furrowed together. "Stop acting like a child and come out from wherever the hell you're hiding"

Ivan stood near the wall as he watched the small man's escapades. It was hard to believe that he was once the Great British Empire. He saw the stumbling and he heard the slur in his words. Even anger couldn't hide the fact that the man was drunk. When England turned out of the bathroom he froze when he saw Russia staring at him with a small smile. Ivan watched as the man's eyes dipped down to his exposed chest with a disgusted look then back to his face. "Where is he, Russia?" England bit out as he pointed a finger at the man.

"Oh you are looking for someone, da? I am afraid I am alone," he stated sweetly as he folded his arms over his bare chest, his scarf was snug nicely around his neck.

England eyes were intense until he saw something strange in them. Ivan assumed that the strangeness was called worry. "What did you do with him? Did you finally lose the last s'bit of sanity you had and...and...oh no..America, are you alive?" the Englishman shouted as he ran back into the main area of the room looking for blood.

Ivan eye twitched slightly. Now he knew where the brat got his annoying tendencies. "America left merely five minutes before you opened my door. There is no need to shout, da?" he informed.

Ivan only received a glare to his statement before the man continued destroying his hotel room. He threw the sheets off the bed. He looked under the table. He opened up the cabinets on the tv stand. He ran about the room like a mad man. "I created s'Doctor I should be able to deduce that buffoons location...or-or his body," England mumbled to himself. Ivan continued to watch with a bored expression. When the Englishman finally went through the entire room he finally turned to Russia. "He left you say?" he asked too causally for someone who had just acted crazy a moment ago.

"Da, he left. I will not be offended if you follow his action," Ivan answered with a smile. He was always a very organized person and seeing his hotel room in chaos was making him uncomfortable.

"If he left that means he was previously here. What did you do to him?" England asked his green eyes turning into annoyed slits.

Ivan's smile grew, "I apologize, but it would be inappropriate to tell you."

England's eyes turned to disgust. "Sl'tay away from America, Russia," he growled.

"Why? America is not yours. If I wish to have him, I can," Ivan answered with a shrug as he walked over to his mini fridge. He needed more vodka, and the stupid brat had caused him to lose his bottle somewhere between the roof and his hotel room. Luckily, Ivan always brought a few bottles with him.

"I had thought the git was exaggerating, but…you have sl'omething planned," England stated from behind him.

Ivan opened up the fridge as he rolled his eyes out of view of the Englishman. "The western world is far too paranoid, da?" he said as he picked up a full bottle and turned to look at the man who swayed from foot to foot. His greens eyes seemed very angry. He reminded him of the tsars. They stuck their nose up to everything.

"Don't undermine me boy. I am still far older than you," the man said with 'hmph,' before crossing his arms over his tacky suit.

Ivan's hand tightened around the bottle, as he stood straight like a wall. He remembered when he was younger and he first met England. It was when Ivan the Terrible had asked for their princess hand in marriage. England had rejected. England was but a teenage boy and Ivan was the size of ten year old, but he still saw England's fear that was in the corner of his eyes when they spoke. He acted rude and snippy as he always did, but there was fear. England was coward. "Is it so hard to believe that actually wish to spend time with the boy? I believe the real problem is that you are jealous," he said expanding his smile.

England's eyes grew as his lips gapped. "I am sl'o not jealous! Why would I be jealous of anyone getting with that git who has his head stuck up his arse?" The man appeared very frazzle, and Ivan caught how red his checks were getting. The man kept his hands wrapped around his chest.

He hadn't expected to be correct, but that was quite interesting. England had a crush on his former colony. Well that would be quite unfortunate for him. Ivan would not let the Englishman's petty emotions get in the way of his own desires. "Oh? It is quite a relief than. I had assume you would be quite angry if you knew that America had been sucking me off like one of those little sex dolls you've created," he smiled. He opened up the top of his bottle.

It was painfully silent as Russia poured the vodka into the glass.

"You're lying," England stated coldly.

"Nyet, he was quite good. Did father teach him?" he asked with a smirk as he brought the glass up to his lips. He wasn't exactly sure why he was being so cruel to England. Partially, he quite disliked the man, but the way he was treating him was far similar to the relations at the end of WWII. He always hated those meetings. Stalin, Truman, and Winston would be addressing paperwork in the other room leaving England, America, and him alone.

America and England sat on one side of the table. The blond idiot boy wore his bomber jacket over his suit while England still wore his military gear. Ivan was dressed in uniform as well. He could not be surprise by America's terrible choice in appropriate clothing. He watched silently with a smile as the boy laughed causally. The Englishman only stared at Ivan with suspicion before leaning in and whispering something else into the boy's ears. Ivan's hand would turn into a fist under the table as the boy would laugh louder. He always hated America's laugh, especially then. He never knew what he was laughing about. He never could understand what could be so funny. England would then smirk. Those two always wished for his collapse, and he hated that even though the brat and him had fought and hated each other not so long ago that they could be so close now. Hadn't America called him a friend before? The boy was too fickle.

"Admit you are lying," the Englishman growled as something appeared in his hand and was pointed at Russia. Ivan looked down at the stick with little fear. Britain's 'magic,' how frightening. He giggled.

He placed his glass on top of the television. "You're little stick is very small compared to my own weapon. I am curious. Is this a similar representation of ourselves?" he asked with an innocent smile. He watched as the Englishman's face became more heated with anger.

"I sl'wear to Queen of England, if you bloody continue with this you will face the wrath of Great Britain," the man remarked.

Ivan held back his urge to repeat his angry mantra. Instead he reached behind his back and grabbed his pipe. (None of the nations understood how their unique weapons or objects could basically appear from thin air, but none questioned it either.) He held his pipe in his hand casually. "The British Empire fell long ago. You should leave those with true power to discuss political affairs, da?" he answered.

England glared at the pipe before glaring at the man. "True power in this day of age is all relative," he remarked, "Now admit that you are lying."

Ivan would enjoy pounding this poor old man into the ground. Just as he went to reject his order there was more banging on his door. Both Ivan and Arthur turned towards the noise, and immediately they both thought it might be America.

"Ivan, mon chere! Is Arthur in there with you?" Francis voice sounded through the door.

"Damn the bloody frog," England remarked.

Ivan stared at the door. He had never had so many visitors to his room before. "Da," he spoke, but didn't move to open the door in case England attempted something.

"Sl'tay out of this, beard!" England shouted back at the door, "This is all your bloody fault anyways. You and Libya!"

Ivan heard a deep sigh from the other door before a sound of clicking against the doorknob escaped. Ivan's eyebrow arched in curiosity before the door clicked open. Francis was kneeling on the ground with a hairpin and credit card. He wore small smile as he glanced up at the door in a death match.

"How the bloody hell did you do that arse?" England glared at the man.

"You picked the lock, da?" Ivan said with mere curiosity. He hadn't known Francis had such a skill.

Francis stood up from the ground. He ran his hand through his long blond hair, and almost posed for them. "I have quite experience with locked bedroom doors. Nothing can stop l'amour," he spoke with grace as he walked into the room. "Arthur, mon chere, I must ask we leave poor Russia alone. You are quite drunk," he said coming up and putting his hand on the England's shoulder.

England tensed at the touch. "Don't touch me! And I'm not drunk, frog!" he shouted, wiggling out of the grip. His wand hand pointed at the ceiling instead of Ivan.

Francis ended up wrapping his arms around the man's chest, and brought his lips to his ear. "You certainly are. Let me get you back to your room," he said quietly.

Ivan watched silently with his pipe still in hand. He felt slightly out of place as he watched the physical attention. He never understood how those two could be friends and hate each other at the same time. It was quite odd.

"Let go of me! That man has done something with America. I have to protect little America," England said as tears started to enter his eyes. He continued to struggle and Francis only held him tighter.

"America is a man now, mon chere. He does not need your protection. I am certain he can make his own intelligent choices," Francis consoled.

England's eyes got wetter as anger continued to radiate off his body. "He's an idiot! And he's always my little America…and I…I" the man stopped, as tears legitimately fell down his checks.

Ivan found the display rather pathetic actually. He had respected the Englishman for being able to hold power over America, but now he realized the truth. America held power over the Englishman. Everyone of America's action had an effect on him. The boy truly held all the cards. How could some cute blue eye blond have such an effect on so many people? No, Russia would not let that happen to him. He would never be under America's influence.

"I know, Arthur. I know," Francis whispered softly to his friend/occasional lover, "We need to let Ivan go to sleep though. I promise you, everything will be alright."

"How can you say that! You stupid frog!" England shouted pushing out of Francis's arms finally. England turned around to face Francis. "He hates me! He absolutely hates me, and it's all your damn fault, arse!" England pushed past Francis and stormed through the door. His one hand covered his eyes, and his other held his wand.

Francis eyes followed the man out of the door before turning back to Ivan with a apologetic look. "I am quite sorry for this display, Ivan. Arthur and alcohol have never mixed properly. I hope we did not ruin your play time with Amerique," he said with a knowing smirk.

"Nyet, I can see immaturity runs in the family," he answered sweetly at Francis. He never trusted France after the Napoleon invasion, but he did prefer him to the other Western countries.

Francis smiled, "Ah yes." The Frenchman paused. His eyes fell to the floor in thought. He obviously was very concerned over England who had left. He finally looked back up at Ivan. "I must warn you Ivan. Alfred has a way of naively breaking the hearts of those around him. Be careful if you decide to go down that path."

Ivan stared with a blank expression at that information. Did Francis just insinuate that Ivan would fall in love with America? No, never. Only fools like England would fall for the idiot boy. There was nothing to love about America. Ivan would use the boy and gain the power he deserved. The golden locks and constant cheerfulness worked on the week, but Ivan saw past that. He saw the coldness in America. He saw what America really was: a child with a gun. He smiled at Francis, which caused Francis to shiver.

"You have to have a heart for it to break, da?"


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: This chapter just sort of took off on me. Warning, past historical events in this. As always thanks for the reviews! They always make me write faster. Curious, yours always make me laugh. Though, I am slightly a fan of USUK, not as much as Rusame, but I can see how it would occur. Never liked CanXUS. Just rubs me the wrong way. And yes, Alfred is the perfect ignorant heartbreaker. He's too stupid to know when he does it lol. Hope you all enjoy!

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><p>America pressed the down button for the elevator. His kept shifting and glancing back at the door. His hand kept running through his blond hair before he pressed it against his mouth. Stop stop stop. Where the hell is the elevator? You can't go back there dude. Force yourself forward. Russia wasn't that good.<p>

The elevator admitted a ding sound. "Finally!" he said in a loud sigh. The metal doors began to open and then the strangest thing occurred. Alfred came face to face with himself.

He blinked at his reflection. Did the elevator have a mirror in it? He didn't remember seeing one, and why is his reflection holding a Teddy Bear.

"Hello Al," the reflection spoke to him causing America to jump. His eyes widened in fear as he cowered behind his hand. It reminded him of that last Japanese film he had watched with Kiku. The ghost used mirrors to attack. Oh god he hated ghost. You could never fight a ghost. They were already dead and transparent. He was a hero, but the hero's always lost in horror films. They fought only to die a horrible death. Oh no! The ghost was going to kill him! It was going to suck out his soul and then cut his body into pieces.

He closed his eyes. "Keep away from me ghost!" he shouted and held his hands out. In the distance he heard the elevator door beeping and sliding close, but then a force stopped it. The elevator door slide back open, and Alfred felt something on his shoulder. Alfred screamed and then everything went black. (Luckily Russia's room was far down the hall because America would have been quite embarrassed if the man witnessed it.)

Matthew flinched at the loud scream as he watched his brother fall to the ground. He would have caught him, but Kumaji was in his arms, at least he thought the bears name was Kumaji. Matthew looked down at his brother's lifeless form with a worried expression. Even though his brother forgot him on many occasions, he still cared about him. He wished his brother could be more conscious of his surroundings and what he was doing. The little bear in his arms was squirming, so Matthew let him go. The bear landed on the ground before moving to the unconscious American. "Is the burger man okay?" the bear asked, poking the man's head. America's head rolled back and forth at the movement.

Matthew bent down in between the two elevator doors. They would close soon. "I-I think he's alright," he said softly as he listened for America's breathing. He touched the man's pulse and let out a sigh of relief.

"Who are you?" the bear asked as he looked up at him.

Matthew closed his eyes at the question. "I'm Canada," he said for the millionth time. No one ever noticed him, and it made him very angry. He tried to voice his anger…but…it just wasn't worth it.

The doors started to close and Matthew's eyes jumped to them. He had to move his brother. He looped his arms underneath America's to pull the nation's weight into the elevator. "Al, you really need to eat healthier," he mumbled in a strained voice as he tried to hold the weight of his brother. The little bear attempted to pick up America's foot, but found it too heavy so dropped it. He scurried past the dead weight and into the elevator. Once Matthew managed to pull the last of the American's limbs in the elevator. He gently dropped the weight on the ground with a sigh. He wiped the sweat on his brow as he watched the elevator doors close. The elevator shifted into movement and Matthew pondered over what he was supposed to do with America out cold like this. He knew he couldn't let the other nations see him like this. His brother was a super power and while he could be loud and obnoxious, Matthew loved his brother. He couldn't let countries that hated him see him this way. He would have to drive his brother home.

Matthew sighed at that thought. He had been planning on driving back to Canada after the party. Not because he hates the United States! He actually enjoyed coming on occasion and seeing the many Canadians that decided to make Hollywood their home, but he always preferred Ottawa. He also…he also…healsohadafriendcomingover. He thought quickly like America had the possibility to read his mind. He knew if his brother ever found out he would be furious with him. No, it was better to keep it a secret.

He glanced down at the unconscious American. How was he suppose to get America to his car? He thought back to the size of the lobby. He gulped. He couldn't drag the man across the floor. The elevator kept dinging as they traveled down the floor. "Kimajir, I can't carry you. You must follow closely," he said quietly to the bear who had taken a seat next to the American and was poking his stomach.

The bear looked up at him, and tilted his head. He seemed to mentally be asking himself who Canada was again until realization occurred. The bear nodded. Matthew knelt himself on the ground as the elevator ticked passed the third floor. He grabbed America's arm and placed it over his shoulder. He then wrapped his arm around America's back in attempts to balance the weight. With a deep breath, he then heaved the American off the floor. His eye twitched as the overwhelming weight attacked him.

"Ma-ple," he muttered as he forced himself to handle it. He would do this for his brother because his brother would do this for him. The elevator came to a halt and then they slowly opened revealing the very decorative display of the lobby. He hoped all the countries had gone to their rooms. He took a cautious step out of the elevator. He felt like his back was going to break. Alfred why do you have to eat so much? He forced his other leg forward. His face looked like a scrunched up rag doll as he continued the few steps in the lobby. He was walking too slowly and he knew he was drawing attention from the staff.

"Sir, Can I help you?" a man in a valet uniform came up and asked the unconscious America. Canada would have been more irritated by the fact that he was still ignored if he wasn't so distracted by holding the weight.

"Ye-yes," Canada said softly, "Ka-kamaroon, tic-ket." The bear nodded and walked over to Canada's slacks. He dug into the pocket and pulled out a parking ticket then held it out to the staffer.

The staffer jumped when Canada spoke. Where had he come from? He was even more weirded out by the pet bear, so he quickly departed with a nod.

Matthew used this time to continue America across the lobby. "Oh that is unfortunate. I was hoping to speak with him," a voice appeared behind him out of nowhere. Canada was so surprised that he ended up letting go of his brother.

"No, Al!" Matthew said in his 'loud' voice as he attempted to catch the man's failing arms. Oh Alfred was going to be so mad at him for the headache, but then again is there really that much up their that could cause a headache.

Just as Matthew flinched in wait for the impact, two arms came out and caught the American. Matthew looked at the thin arms in surprise. It must have been the voice. His eyes followed the arms up a sand type military uniform. The uniform was a clue enough to tell him who it was. It was obviously a country from the Middle East, and there were only two countries Matthew knew that would actually come to America's birthday.

"Israel?" he had meant to state it, but it came out like a question. Israel was quite thin and tall, but he had the physical appearance of a sixteen year old. It was shown in the slight baby fat of his face. His black curly hair sat a top his head like a cat, but there was Kippah on the back of his head holding the hair back from expanding everywhere.

"Hello Canada," the boy said very seriously as he lifted America into bridal style. How could this 'sixteen-year-old' boy lift that huge amount of weight?

"Uh hi?" Canada said awkwardly as he looked at his brother in the hold. His eyes glanced around the room in search of any other countries, but it appeared Israel was the only one present. The rest must be in their rooms in the building.

"When did he lose consciousness?" Israel asked with cold dark brown eyes. Canada shifted uncomfortably. He didn't dislike Israel, but the boy was so intense in everything he did. He rarely saw a crack of a smile, and when he did, it usually had been because of America. But even though the boy was intense and sometimes frightened Matthew, he still supported Israel in the conflict. Israel had to be scary to deal with what he dealt with, and Canada respected that.

"Um-uh about five minutes ago. I-I think I scared him," Canada said softly as he played with his fingers.

The boy gave him an uncertain look before he nodded. He pressed his fingers to America's pulse and listened to the breathing. He then looked back up at Matthew. "He will be fine. He will have a headache from the fall. I already see the formation of a bruise," Israel answered.

"Oh..um thank you. I was just going to take him home," Matthew informed the Middle Eastern country. He wasn't quite certain of the terms between the US and Israel. They used to be very close because of his brother's wars in that area. When Canada had join forces in Iraq he had watched silently from the corner. No one really cared for his opinion. England sat in a fold out chair next to the table. His arms crossed over his chest. The ground was rocky but sandy, giving a glimpse to the desert outside the tent. They had set up their base for this operation near a small town. Al-Qaeda had been rumored to be near the mountains of the Iraq/Iran boarder. Canada heard Australia whistling a tune outside the tent and the sound of their other men cooking or laughing during this rare break.

America had a map of the geographical terrain of the area. "Your sources stated they were here?" Alfred asked the young Israli as they both leaned over the map.

"Yes, Al-Qaeda has never quite hidden their financials. We easily deduced a charity that is supplying them money. It is right on the trail leading into the mountain range," Israel nodded as his fingers moved along the map to show America. The charity was in Iran, but Al-Qaeda was hidden within the mountains.

"It's like a teenage girl with daddy's credit card!" America laughed and the briefest of smiles appears on Israeli's lips. England rolled his eyes as he pulled out a cigar. Canada had noticed that England smokes more on the battlefield. "We just have to make sure we don't cross Iran's boarder. He will have a little bitch fit like always," America added in a more serious tone.

Israel nodded. "I will be on my way then," he spoke calmly as England lit up his cigar.

America patted the Israeli hard on the back causing the man to flinch. "Thanks a ton Israel! I swear if we didn't have you here our intel would be empty like the Colorado river in California," he said with a laugh, "Have a good night brah!" The Israeli was then pushed towards the exit of the tent.

He gave a curt nod to America. "You as well," he stated.

As soon as the tent closed, the rest of the party went silent except for America who was humming as he read over the maps.

"I don't understand why he does not help us fight instead of shadowing in the background," England said irritated as he released of puff of smoke.

America didn't even look up from the map. "It's obvious bro. Israel is surrounded by all his worst enemies. He can only take on some of them at a time, but he cannot take on all of them. If he officially goes to war then he leaves himself weak. Instead he helps me, and then I kick ass," America smiled, "He's a friend."

Canada remembered that meeting in particular because it was one of the few missions he was actually present for. He also remembered speaking up only to have America jump in surprise and horror.

"I will put him in the car for you," the Israeli said. He started walking towards the door in long strides.

Canada was very confused, but picked up Kumaj and followed. "Is-is there something you want me to tell him?" Canada asked in a hurry as he basically jogged after the young boy.

The black hair bobbed with each step until the sliding glass doors of the hotel opened to the night air. Canada's small hybrid sat in the front with the valet handing Canada the keys. Israel stood in front of the passenger door waiting for something.

"Oh!" Canada muttered pressing the unlocked button on the key chain. Israel managed to balance the heavy man in one arm as he opened up the door. How? He then placed Alfred in the seat and buckled him in. He double check to make sure everything was in order before shutting the door.

The dark brown eyes turned to face Matthew. "I had been hoping to talk to Alfred about his new boss. He is putting a strange tension between our friendship. I do not enjoy it. If we are to have success in the Middle East we must work together. I am flying out tonight, but please relay the message to America." The Israeli then turned and walked to the street. Canada watched in strange awe as the boy waved down the first taxi to past.

"I'll tell him to call you," Canada whispered softly to the boy getting in the taxi. Amazingly enough, the boy did turn around and muttered thank you before shutting the door.

Super hearing? Canada shook his head. This had been a very odd day indeed. Francis and Gil had hit on him for most of the party, Alfred had not notice him and when he did he fainted, Israel caused him to worry, and now he had to drive Alfred home. He really just wanted to go to his own home. He wanted to wake up to the knocking at his door. He would do it for me, he reminded himself as he walked to the driver side of the car.

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><p>He smelled sea salt and felt shifting underneath his feet. He took a deep collective breath as he stared out into the ocean in front of him. He rarely traveled across the ocean anymore, but the war had forced him too. He was tired of fighting his little brother. It only made his heart ache with pain with every land they took into Canada. He wanted to face the true source of the problem. He wanted to face England.<p>

It had only been a few decades since the revolution and yet here he was again fighting his former charge. England still did not recognize him as a country. He stole his ships. He prevented his trade with other countries. He was preventing him from expanding by helping the natives. England was still attempting to control him. America wore a straight face expression as a large ship with the British flag blowing in the wind came into view.

America was a country, and he would not sit by and let this nonsense with England continue. As expected the British ship traveled in their direction. America couldn't explain the feeling he felt, but he knew England was on the ship. The British ship moved faster then his own. America knew England had far superior naval fleet. It was the very reason he was able to conquer the world in such a way, but America did not let England's strength frighten him. He tried to push the memories that flooded his mind as the ship got closer. England was no longer his big brother. England was his enemy.

"Sir, should we set the cannons?" a boy who appeared a few years older in appearance asked him.

America shook his head. "No, let them board. They think we are a merchant ship after all," he answered, "When they enter the ship be ready with the plan. I will distract their Captain." From appearance America did not look like the captain. He wore tattered clothing under a vest. His golden hair was wind blown and with the dirt along his face he looked like just another sailor. He preferred being like this. He preferred working along side his people. The British ship traveled next to their ship. The cannons were already open and ready to fire, but America knew England would not make a move to attack. He wanted the supplies. He could not get the supplies if they laid at the bottom of the Davey Jones Locker.

The British ship slowed, and he heard England shouting orders to his men. America smirked before walking over to his own men. By first glance, no one would pick him out.

America focused his eyes to the deck of the other ship. On the other hand, it was quite easy to pick out England. He always wore glamorous reds and a large hat when he was at sea. The England he saw now was nothing like the man who had raised him. The man who had raised him was blunt and caring. The man who walked over to the edge to the banister was cruel and cold. "Unfortunate Yankees!" he shouted to the other ship, "You are being commandeered under the Queen. If you resist you will be killed. If you do not, you can expect a wonderful life with the British Empire!"

He felt his own men tense with disgust. All would rather die then work for Great Britain. America watched carefully. He saw as the men wrapped line between the boats. He watched as they swung over the short distance to the other side. He watched as the men pulled out their swords and guns. They pointed them at the lined up men. America did not glance upwards to the sky because he knew what he would see. He would see his own men sneaking onto the other ship. England greatly underestimated him.

As the ships grew closer, England stood on the banister. One of his men handed him a rope, and he easily traversed the small distance with grace.

"Captain, they have all surrendered upon boarding," an Englishman remarked to England who causally walked across the floor of the wooden ship. He held his sword in hand as his eyes grazed across the men.

"They truly become more pathetic with each ship," England remarked with a smirk before his eyes landed on familiar eyes. America smiled.

It was fun to see the shock appear in England's face. The calmness had vanished and replaced with worry and surprise. He covered it a moment later. "You," he pointed his sword at America, "Come with me."

America did not protest when two Brits pulled him from the line and pushed him at the Captain. "Long time no see," America muttered as he was forced to bow his head to England. He could have easily fought against the men, but that would destroy their plan. He had to handle England.

England glared at him with those green eyes before barking, "Let go of him." He then grabbed America's forearm and ripped him towards America's captain quarters. He opened up the door then threw America with force that America had to catch himself on his table. England followed slamming the door shut behind him. "What are you doing on the sea?" he growled.

America let out a light laugh. "I am pretty sure I'm at war with you, so I've come to solve the problem," he said before pushing off his table to glare down the Englishman, or the Great British Empire. What was so great about Britain anyways? "I will not allow my men to be captured by you again."

England rolled his eyes as he pulled out his cigar from his pocket. "Words have little meaning if there is no action behind it," he scolded the boy. It reminded America of England's many lectures to him as a boy. "You and your men were quite easily captured," he said lighting the cigar. It made a sizzling sound as he puffed it. America had never seen England smoke, and it rubbed him the wrong way. It was similar to seeing the schoolhouse teacher outside of the schoolhouse. "What are you really doing out here, boy?" England asked as he pulled his cigar away from his mouth. The smoke escaped and flooded the space between America and him.

America glared through the smoke. As always, England underestimated him. "I told you, already. I'm going to win this. You have no right to be here. You have no right to be meddling in my affairs. I will be free of you England, even if I have to come out to sea and find your cowardly body myself. I will be a country to be reckoned with," America said as he stood tall. Of course, America had continued to grow through the years. He was officially taller then England and he enjoyed that fact, but as he looked down upon the man he was reminded of that day in the rain. No, not now.

England's lower lip pouted out at America's words. He then put out his cigar on America's nice decorated walls of the cabin. "You're not a country. You are but a lot of rebellious colonies that will collapse in a short time," England answered, dropping the cigar onto the ground.

America's hand turned into a fist. "If you think that then stay out of my affairs," he growled.

England stepped closer, he stared the blue eye boy straight in the eyes. It reminded him of when he was little. "I cannot stay out of your affairs when you trade with Francis and his short midget of a boss. You want to be a country?" he pushed hard on America's chest causing America to step back, "You must learn to make difficult decisions. You must fight to prevent those from walking over you."

America stopped moving back when the back of his legs hit the table. "I don't want to have anything to do with your European drama. Keep me out of it, but as a country you have no right to determine my trading partners," Alfred bit out as he pushed his chest against the fingers.

England glared at him with those green eyes. "You want me to treat you like a country, America?" he asked and hearing his countries name instead of his real name caused a pang in his chest.

"Yes," America stated, that was all he ever wanted. He wanted freedom from the others. He wanted pure freedom.

"You want me to treat you like Spain, France, or any other nation that gets in my way?" England said pulling out his sword. America felt slightly uncomfortable with how England stated that. He knew what his answer was, but kept an eye on the sword as it pointed upwards towards America's arm. He just needed to distract England long enough for his men to capture the Brits and take over the British ship. They would then escape on the British ship and leave the Brit to their empty supply ship. Great Britain would get nothing. America would get the designs of one of the best vessels in the British Fleet.

"Yes," he answered.

Before he could protest, England gripped his chin painfully and drew his face down to stare at his lips. America felt weird by the reaction, but couldn't move because the Englishman had put the sword at his back. "You have never realized how easy I have been upon you, maybe that is why you have grown up into a spoiled brat. If you wish to be treated like a country, I will have no problem showing you why the world fears the British Empire."

He hated England, but he desperately wanted respect from him.

The silence was dreadful. Why had it become so silent? His heart was pounding against his chest, but he didn't see England. Where had the crazy bastard gone? He brought his hand to his chest and realized he was no longer wearing his tattered clothing from the eighteen hundreds, but his Air Force Uniform from World War II. Something bright shown on his face and he shielded his eyes from the early sun. He blinked to finally see a thin sheet wall in front of him. The wall was very familiar. He had seen it so many times when he had come over to Japan's house.

He gave the wall a confused expression. How did it get here if he was on the ocean? He decided that as a hero he should open it and find out. He slid the thin frame a bit harder then he meant to. He thought he heard a crack and winced at the sound. He would have apologized immediately if his eyes hadn't of landed on Japan. There, on a flat bed, laid Japan. His breathing was haggard. His brow was sweated. His arms laid across his chest, and every now and then he would grip onto the sheets like holding for dear life. Though all of that was sickening for America to see, it was the blood that caused his heart to clench. Two large spots in different areas of Japan's chest were bleeding and soaking through the bandages and sheets.

The guilt hit him like a waterfall as he remembered the actions. He stood frozen in place unable to move. The hero frozen stiff. He had done this to Japan. Japan deserved it though. He wouldn't surrender…no, no one deserved this.

America forced himself to move into the room. He stood by Japan's bedside and looked at him with guilty eyes. "Why? Why did you betray me?" he asked quietly. Japan had been his friend. He felt like they were so similar. They both isolated themselves from the rest of the world. They both were finally attempting to explore it. He remembered when the Japanese man informed him of his fear of not making friends. America had of course offered his up in the beginning. Why then? Why did you attack me?

America collapsed on the ground next to the Japan. He leaned his elbows on the bed and held his face in his hands. He wanted to cry, but heroes didn't cry. Japan had stabbed him in the back, but he didn't deserve this.

"I'm sorry, Japan," he whispered softly.

He hated Japan for his betrayal, but...but he longed for their friendship.

"You are lazy da? You find ways to make your life easier, but isn't this kitchen pointlessly large?" the voice caused him to freeze. His eyes danced around in search for Japan, but instead landed on Russia in his old Soviet Union attire. The only thing unchanging in his appearance was his scarf and childlike smile. He still felt the guilt and the edge of tears on his eyes, but he was being pulled away from it, almost like he was no longer in control of his body.

"Pfft. Innovation could hardly be called lazy, communist," the words left his mouth without his thoughts as he strolled over to the display of a United States kitchen. He glanced out the window and saw the familiar background of Moscow. He was in the USSR. His eyes fell in front of him and he saw Nixon and Khrushc-something talking near the reporters.

Russia tapped the dishwater with little interest before smiling back at him. "We have this too, and in another seven years we will certainly have all the other aspects," he responded, "Except we will have them in every home while only the spoiled wealth enjoy these amenities in your country."

America frowned. "That's not true at all, dude. This is taken from a house worth 13,000 dollars. A worker making 3 dollars an hour could afford it." He wanted to insult Russia and his country, but knew Nixon would be mad. Nixon told him that he was suppose to be the 'bigger' person.

"Ah yes, but those that make less than 3 dollars live on the streets? You are quite generous indeed," Russia said as he leaned against the kitchen display unimpressed.

Fury was circulating America's veins. "My country gives people the opportunity to succeed. That's the difference between you and me. You preach equality, but how valued can equality be when everyone is forced to live at those same poor living standards. Freedom might have winners and losers, but at least those who try hard get something back. If people try hard here they're just pushed back down. No one is special. Everyone is the same," America growled out as he dramatically used his arms to describe the situation.

Russia smile faltered and the man had crossed his arms over his Soviet uniform. His eyes were closed like he was controlling the urge to attack him. This was how it always was between them. They both wanted so much to hit one another, but they couldn't. If they did no one would survive.

"Work hard? A very interesting joke, Amerika," he began as he slowly opened his dark violet eyes, "Your people lack community and for that reason are wasteful. Those living in higher status have the door open to them, but your average worker is force to slave to the cooperate greed. Was it not your selfishness that led the world into the Depression? You focus far too much on yourself, Amerika. Besides Amerika, we are not far behind and the Soviet Union has only been around for forty years, while great Amerika has been here for over a hundred." Russia glanced over at his boss, judging how their conversation was going. They seemed pleased with one another, though disagreement was already occurring. America noticed Russia disgust with his boss's behavior.

Actually, America was pretty peeved with Nixon. Why were the men laughing? There was nothing to laugh about! Russia was the enemy. The USSR was evil! "Commie, I don't care if you catch up or not. I'm just trying to show you that America is pretty awesome. If anyone focuses too much on himself, it's you," he said. His glasses fell down his nose, but he kept his glare on Russia.

Russia smile this time did not falter. Instead he took a step closer, closing the small space they had between them. He always forgot how much Russia towered over him, but America kept his position. He would not back down to Russia.

Russia reached out with his hand, which almost caused America to flinch…almost. The hand landed on his shoulder and pressed down hard. If America were weak, he probably would have collapsed on the ground. America stood tall though. His eyes locked with violet, and he wondered what insane thing the man was thinking. He imagined it had something to do with decapitating children.

"All my focus is on you, Amerika."

America's fierce glare released from his face as confusion hit. Did…he…no…what?

He hated Russia. He just hated Russia, end of story.

"Alfred, Alfred," he heard in the distance. He wondered silently what he was going to be pulled into next. He felt shaking.

"Alfred, please wake up. You keep shouting. Oh goodness. I hope he's okay," the voice seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it.

Alfred shifted his body and slowly forced his eyelids open. He saw himself. How strange…like a floodgate, he remembered the ghost. He shot up from the couch he was laying on.

The reflection ghost sighed relief before saying, "Calm down, Alfred. It's me, Matthew."

Alfred glanced down at the ghost from his standing position on the couch. He stared at the creature. Matthew? Who was? Oh duh, his brother! "Oh Mattie!" he relaxed instantly, "Dude, you really shouldn't scare the shit out of me. It's totally not cool." Alfred said as he hopped down to the couch. It only took a moment to find his mold into the cushion. Wait, wasn't he at the hotel. How'd he get back home?

"I wasn't tryin-" Mattie said softly, but gave up with a sigh. The Canadian pushed himself off the ground and moved onto the couch with his brother. "Are you alright, brother? You were shaking and tossing," he asked. The small bear crawled up the couch to snuggle with Canada.

Alfred's eyes were focusing on the wall above his television. His mind was still wrapped in those dreams…no memories. Why did every person in his life have to be a complete ass? He brought his hand to his forehead and rubbed his temple. "Yeah I'm fine, Brah. Weird dreams," he said as he continued to rub his head. It was strange how they were all centered to those he had physical relations with. Oh shit, he did stuff with Russia tonight! Fuck!

He shot up from the couch and began pacing around the room. Curse words escaped his mouth as he went back and fourth. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. How drunk had he been? Okay, drunk, but not _that _drunk. Ah shit, knowing Russia the man would exaggerate it all. He was going to change it into some sick political game like he did with most of his actions during the Cold War. Ah damn it!

But then again…Russia had been just as into it as him.

America groaned and rubbed his face. Canada merely sat on the couch in confusion. "What happened?" he asked. It was rare to ever see his brother in such a state. He usually would get upset for a moment before snapping out of it with some new found plan. It was odd to see frustration lasting over a few seconds.

"IdidsomestuffwithRussia," he mumbled out into his hand.

All Canada got was Russia. He had seen his brother fighting with the man again at the birthday party. He didn't understand why they kept fighting. Russia was quite nice actually and America, while a complete idiot, was very nice as well. He didn't understand how two nice people could not get along. "What about Russia?" he attempted to prode.

Kimaje sat up straighter and stared at the American with an odd look. The American didn't answer. He continued to pace and whine. The bear pulled on his masters sleeve and Matthew turned his eyes to the bear. "They had sex," the bear informed him.

Matthew's eyes shot open as a hot flush crossed his cheeks. "Wh-what?" he said louder then he normally would. He never would have imagined such an action, especially from his brother.

"I did not have sex with him!" Alfred shouted, glaring at the small bear. "We just uh- did other stuff. It doesn't matter right? It's not like anyone's going to know. I mean you're not going to tell anyone!" Alfred looked at his brother with a pitiable face.

"Of course not!" Matthew yelped, still in shock that anything like that could occur.

The sound of beepy laughter echoed from the hallway as an alien walked through the door with Micky D's. "You slept with Russia? That is what you humans call a birthday present!" the alien continued to laugh. The McDonalds in his hand shaked with him. "It was probably all bondage and whips. We're you a good doggie. Woof!"

"SHUT UP TONY!" Alfred screamed so loud his neighbors probably heard. Alfred face was red with color as he brighten like one of Spain's tomatoes. "I did not have sex with him! And no! No, you're sick!"

Tony only continued to laugh as he moved to the kitchen.

Matthew was very confused. He did not understand a thing the alien said. It was all just beeps. How did his brother communicate with it when he barely could speak a second language? Alfred fell onto the floor. He buried his face in his hands as he rocked back and fourth. "This is so embarrassing," he muttered.

Matthew looked at his brother pathetically. He never acted this way. He knew his brother had other relationships. He didn't quite understand why one with Russia was so terrible. The whole world wanted them to just sleep with each other during the Cold War instead of deal with the consequences from their sexual tension. He never thought America would be mature enough to do anything with Russia…(well based on America's ball form on the floor, he still doesn't believe he's mature enough), but the action, in some ways, was inevitable. He doubted the rest of the world would care. They all some sort of relationships on the side. No one judged, for the most part.

He wanted to explain that logic to America, but knew it would go over his head. He decided to do the next best thing. "I promise, I am not going to tell anyone, so no one will know," Matthew informed him.

Alfred pulled his face out of the ball he had formed. His blue eyes turned bright with hope. "Really?" he asked.

"Of course," Matthew smiled.

America jumped up off the ground with new spirit. "You're awesome, Mattie!" he shouted before tackling his brother into a hug.

Matthew felt uncomfortable with the lack oxygen reaching his lungs. "No pr-problem," he said through limited breath. When his brother finally let go, Matthew took in a deep breath.

Alfred seemed to be full of a new spark as he reached for the remote and game controller. "You want to play with me, Mattie?" he asked with a large grin.

Mattie glanced at the clock. It was already close to four and he desperately wanted to be driving back to Canada. He would be so mad to know that Matthew made him wait because of America. "Uh actually I have to head back. I have work to do in the morning," he said. He didn't like lying to his brother, but it was better this way.

America looked up from his glasses as Matthew stood with the bear in arms. "You sure, dude?" he asked, "It's kinda of late. You know you can just sleep in the guest bedroom."

"No. No," he said quickly, "My boss will be angry. Oh," he said remembering the message he was suppose to give, "Israel wants you to call him."

America's bright mood went away in an instant. He was serious as he turned on the television. His mind stuck in his thoughts. He finally pulled his eyes up to his brother. "I can't do that right now," he stated to Canada.

Everything America was doing tonight was confusing him greatly. Israel and his brother used to be great friends. Canada was very supportive of Israel, but his brother was always more so. "Oh? Uh why not?"

"Don't get me wrong Mattie. Israel was…is a trusted ally, but my boss he…I mean Palestine deserves a hero too..but…it doesn't matter. I don't want to keep you from home with my political nonsense," Alfred said with a small smile that always seemed out of place on his face.

America was acting very strange. "You sure you okay, Al?" he asked one more time.

America grinned, "The best ever, Mattie!"

Canada nodded uncertain about leaving. His brother was strong, and if he was in trouble with things he would tell him right? "Call me if anything is wrong... Bye Al," he said before leaving the living room.

"If I remember Mat!" America then laughed as Canada merely rolled his eyes. As the door shut though, America stopped laughing. His eyes left the hallway and turned to the television. He quickly turned it to CNN to see what was going on in the world. As always there were so many problems. There were almost too many problems for the hero to handle. What made it all worst, was that the polarization of his people and his parties was making it very difficult for him to determine who exactly the bad guy was. Russia, China, Iran, North Korea, Israel, India, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Palestine, Libya, Saudi Arabia, Europe as a whole, Brazil, and every other country in the world. They were threats, but also people he needed to protect.

But which was which…

Is Israel right? His boss didn't think so…

Well, at least one fact was certain: Russia would always be the bad guy.

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><p>an: I purposefully spell Kumajiro wrong because it says Canada can never remember his name either.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Just to warn you all this is all just politics. I am sure everyone remembered the budget nonsense this summer with the government 'almost shut down.' There isn't much character on character interaction that will be in the next chapter, but this was needed to continue the plot. Curious, I'm laughing with you ^^. I broke up the perspective like you mentioned. When I posted it, I was just exhausted and forgot. Yes, the memory with England was the time though I imagined England doing it to prove something to himself and America but overall not enjoying it and being upset while America, being a teenage boy, would be conflicted with whether he actually enjoyed it or not. In the end he doesn't have that much time to think about it because his crew captures England crew and hears the fighting. He ends up stealing England's sword and saying something around the words 'I hate you' before jumping with his crew over to the British ship and stealing it. He almost aims cannons at England and his old ship. He almost orders fire, but England walks out of the captain quarters. There eyes meet. England's crying. Instead America cancels the order and just ride off with one of the fastest ship in the British Navy. Actually when I first wrote the last chapter I went into a painfully detailed scene of the whole event, but decided there wasn't a point to really show that to you guys so I deleted it. I just needed to give glimpse of their relationship and the frustrating aspect of it. Oh and Mi Yool, I don't do betas. I don't have time for it. I'm certain this is written in my profile, but when I write a chapter I write it in a few hours then post it. I have two jobs, an internship, and full college class load. I don't have time to be discussing things with an editor. I do this for fun. It's no longer fun when I have to debate over my style with some strange person. I try to read over...but again lack of time and just pure laziness. I usually edit them the next day after I post and I find myself reading it and catching an error. Hope everyone can okay with that.

PS: I do enjoy reviews! So to all those sneaky people fav and story alerting my story, stop by and give me your opinion. Curious, certainly goes on a rant, but I love it all the same haha. Tell me if a character is how you pictured them. I have never met Putin, Medvedev, Obama, Hilary, or Boehner. I've read a few of Putin's speeches, I have watched the debates between Hilary and Obama. I read alot of Politico, so I think I have their personalities accurate...but probably not. I will admit these are my representations of them, so do not take them to heart. It's like South Parks impressions of whoever. Also I guess I should say this now since I am ranting. I am a Republican. There is more than likely basis in my writing because of that. Enjoy politic chapter! Hope it all seems realistic. That's my goal. It's why I go into detail, Silvertrain ;)

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><p>Alfred leaned against one of the oak display tables in the center of hallway. He fidgeted with the sleeve of his dark blue suit. He had been wearing so many suits these days he felt like he was suffocating. He was overwhelmed with domestic and international political drama. Why couldn't he go back to nineties when everything was booming and work was easy? He really wanted to go out west for a bit. He loved the west: the open land, the mountains, the clear sky, and beautiful stars. He wanted to bike and finally try that dirt-boarding thing that he saw on YouTube. That would be cool! He bet it was just like snowboarding though admittedly he was always a better skier then snowboarder. He just wanted to escape! Couldn't he put on his awesome jeans again? Ugh. His head fell back as his eyes looked up at the white ceiling and the chandelier above him. He was pretty sure he broke that one when Teddy was in office.<p>

He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, and his head fell back down to see who it could be. He pulled out his iphone. He wasn't surprised when he saw Iggy! on the top of it. Instead of answering it he put it back in his pocket. It had been over a week since his birthday fiasco. Alfred just played the dumb card. He hadn't called Russia. He hadn't called Arthur. He hadn't called Israel. He actually really hadn't called anyone. He was too focus on internal issues. Then Congress passed the resolution for the United States to interfere in Libya. The calls started then. Arthur had called him everyday since the action. Alfred ignored him. He was still angry about it all. He had told Arthur hadn't he? He had told him he would help when he could, but he didn't believe him. His anger over Arthur's comment had slowly diminished. He had reminded himself that Arthur was drunk and probably didn't mean to be so cruel, but he couldn't get over Arthur's lack of faith in him. It reminded him of when he was younger, and with that recent dream at the front of his mind, it only made him more frustrated. He knew it was a long time ago. He knew that his relationship with Arthur was a strange mixture of love with a misunderstanding on whether it was only platonic or not. He wasn't sure if either of them knew, but as a friend Arthur had to respect him. Arthur needed to have faith in him, or what was the point in their friendship?

He would be in Libya tomorrow for a few days and then Afghanistan. He didn't have time to deal with that stupidness anyways. At the thought of Afghanistan, though, he winced. He was going to Afghanistan to meet Russia. They were going to discuss the way his troops and his supplies could better be traveled into the country though the Russian boarder. Ugh. Russia truly wanted to 'help' with Afghanistan, and it pissed Alfred off. Why the hell did he decide now was the perfect opportunity to help? There is some other motive in it. He's almost positive. Panetta said he's guessing it something about controlling drug traffic. If it was then why in the world did Alfred have to talk to him…he hadn't spoken with him since…blah

Why did he do such a stupid thing? The image of Russia's chest against his and the memory of how cold it all felt planted his mind with the answer. It all seemed forbidden and Alfred was attracted to it. He probably would have been awesome sex. Hard, rough, cold…those large hands…stop. Stop. You should not thinking about Russia like this. He had controlled this lustful feeling for Russia before he could do it again. Yeah, he could do anything. He was America! What did he do back then? He thought of Moscow when he went once when Stalin was in charge. Alfred face turned to disgust in an instant. The homes were tattered and the snow caused many people to get sick. Life looked so bleak for those poor people. But then his mind shifted to present day Moscow and…no, you will not start that.

It even has a McDonalds now.

Shut up, conscious. I have no desire to go there for some communist McDonalds! They have probably twisted the hamburgers to brainwash people…oh

His face turned into horror at imagining his beautiful McDonalds ruined. Part of him wanted to run to his plane to go save the McDonalds now!

"Your face will be stuck like that forever if you keep that up, Alfred," a female voice said at his side.

When he noticed it was Hilary in a green pants suit, his position on the table slipped, and he almost fell. He caught himself though, even if the shaky nervousness of being in this woman's presence was still there. Gezz, the lady just always caught him in his worst moments. It was probably what like having a mother was like. You finally escape to your room and you have a playboy magazine. You get a sock and plan to have fun only to have Mis…Mrs. Clinton walk in. Oh my god. His face turned to more horror at the new image in his mind. Clinton walking in on him. It sounded horrible, but very likely with how she just popped up.

"Uh hey Cli- I mean Mrs. Clinton," he said in a hurry as he tried to still act cool. It failed.

The women's tight lips gave him a creepy knowing smile. Uh…what was she thinking? "Alfred, you must relax," she stated leaning next to him on the table. She tried to slouch like him, but on her always-stiff features it seemed unnatural. "The President might be a wreck but there is no reason for us all to lose faith," she said with certainty.

He knew she was talking about the current budget crisis going on and not at all about the other shit in Alfred's life, but it still felt nice to here. Clinton might scare the shit out of him, but she always was far calmer in stress situation then others. She usually got a bit mean, but still calm. It was similar to Pelosi.

Alfred smiled at her though her eyes were on the door across of them. Boehner and Obama were in another meeting trying to work out the budget issues so they wouldn't have to past another continuing resolution. "Yeah, I know," Alfred said softly, "Just always irks me when they fight. I mean, I love it cause balance of powers and all…but," he paused not fully wanting to explain it to Clinton. He had no problems with balance of powers. He had issues with polarization. He felt half his people thinking one way and the other thinking the other way. What made it worst as that both sides fiercely thought the other was wrong that it verged on hate. It always reminded him of the Civil War though no polarization could be as painful as that experience. This polarization was just a numb pain in the back of his heart. It also made it difficult for Alfred to decide what was right and wrong.

He felt a hand pat him on the back (actually kind of hard! Gezz Hilary). "You'll be fine. We did this same stuff back with my husband. Divided government just makes it a bit more time consuming," she said in a stern voice that seemed to be considerate, "Don't frown though. It makes you look old."

Alfred couldn't help but grin at the comment. Maybe Hilary wasn't that bad. Just as he was about to voice it he felt something tickling his nose. He twitched it trying to make it go away, but it worsened. He took in a deep breath and then

AAHHHHHCHOOOOO

His sneeze caused him to loose balance and shake the table he had been leaning. The vase with flowers naturally fell to the ground with a loud clash the same time Alfred's butt met the carpet.

Everything in the Whitehouse felt silent for a moment before the secret agents near the corners of the hall ran towards him. Alfred wiped his nose with the sleeve of his suit jacket. Shit. It was only a sneeze, but the sneeze was the beginning of a cold…and…shit.

"Are you all right, Alfred?" Clinton asked as he held out her hand. While the comment was sincere, he noticed the worry in his eyes and the calculations that were following.

"Yeah. No big. Just a sneeze!" he said with a huge grin, trying to play it off. He took Clinton's hand and pulled himself up.

"Sir, do we need to get you to a Doctor or a Hospital?" one of the secret service asked him.

"No. No. I am definitely fine!" he said holding up his hands once he was standing, "The vase definitely isn't, but I am!" He laughed. The three were staring at him intensely as he continued to laugh. The two service men nodded and moved back to their post.

"Are you sure you should be leaving for Libya. If you are sick I would rather keep you here. We do not need the markets exaggerating if they see you sick," Clinton stuck straight to business.

"I swear, I'm fine! Heroes don't let sickness stop them," he said aloud. He needed to leave DC. He desperately needed to leave. He would give anything to escape west, but Libya would have to do.

Clinton looked like she was going to protest right when the two large doors to the Oval Office swung in to a furiously looking Boehner. His thick eyebrows scrunched together in a scowl. "I can't work with an elitist stuck up man," he growled out. His binders being held tightly to the side of his suit that didn't look clean. He had probably not changed it for days. They all had been doing all nighters recently. "Let the government shut down for all I care. It will probably be better for this country since he obviously does nothing to solve our problems."

Clinton did not seem pleased. She only passed the man into the Oval office. Alfred though had a gapping mouth. "Dude, what happened?" he asked trying to calm the Speaker of the House so they all could fix this budget thing.

Speaker first turned a glare on Alfred, but when he realized who it was his face relaxed. "Kid, the man's truly as stubborn as a mule," he said as he started to walk down the hall, "His only solution is taxes. That's not the issue with the deficit! We need massive reform and cuts! Healthcare and Social Security are the two drainers. We can't do anything unless we reform. I'm going back to Congress to actually come up with real solution. Bye kid." Boehner waved behind. It was halfheartedly because he was basically storming out as fast as he could.

Damn it. Alfred looked back into the Oval Office. He saw Obama staring out the window. He swore every time he saw him he looked more and more exhausted. "Obama?" he asked hesitantly, noticing that not even Clinton had dare say anything since entering. She had merely stood at the side of his desk.

Obama let out a deep sigh before turning away from the window. "It's absolutely baffling how frustrating the Republicans are," he said with a face that seemed very strange on Obama. It literally appeared he couldn't understand what was going on. "The Tea-Party has taken over their ability to compromise. Those Freshman Congressman probably won't last one term. We should not have our wrist handcuffed by that minority." Obama sighed and then his hands fell onto the desk. Alfred so wanted to just call for a group hug: all of Congress, the President, and hell let's let the Supreme Court join in as well.

"Obama, I'm sure we can all get fix. We get everyone in front of McDonalds, get a good sports game going, relax the mood. I think everyone is just stress. We get rid of the stress then we can have a budget out the next day," Alfred said with a large grin and a thumbs up.

Clinton gave him a disapproving look while shaking her head. Shit. Not the right thing to say. It always helped Bush.

"Alfred, can you please leave. I really have to think over things," Obama said seriously not even looking up at him.

Alfred eyes locked with Obama's head. He felt a wave of guilt for not being able to make his boss happy. He almost stepped forward only to pull himself back to the door.

"Alfred," Clinton called out. Alfred stopped, "I need you to call our top investors and tell them that even if the government does shut down we will still pay out interest. They have no reason to worry."

"Okay, I'll call China," he mumbled out sort of sadly about to leave.

"Not just China, Alfred," Clinton said loudly to stop him from leaving, "Our top ten investors are China, Japan, United Kingdom, OPEC nation oil exporters, Brazil, Caribbean Banking Centers, Taiwan, Russia, Hong Kong, and Switzerland. You need to call them all. Now."

Alfred stared at her from under his glasses. Seriously, that many countries invested in him and those were only the top ten. Wait, why the hell was Russia on the top ten list? Oh god. He didn't know whether he was somewhat proud that so many other countries had enough faith in him to invest…but a lot of those people on the list were not people he particularly desired to speak with…joy.


	14. Chapter 14

a/n: longest chapter ever...it was the reason it took me so long to post. I also went to Canada last weekend hehe. Thanks so much for the reviews guys! I swear out of all the stories I have written you have given the best reviews. For that reason I am actually going to respond to them (something I never do!).

Katyusha: I laughed when I wrote it. Alfred obliviousness is so much fun to write. And group hugs should be required of politics. Mostly because I would love to see the supreme court limping into one.

Amondeuwa Chokollit: Haha don't blame me! Blame Doujinshi! All that stuff is USUK. There is barely any Rusame so I am having USUK implanted into my subconscious. And thank you so much for the compliment! I'm glad my politicians are up to par. Boehner and Putin are my favorite to write. I'm excited because Putin will be in a chapter soon, and well I love him. I hope this chapter satisfies your craving!

Curious: I love your rants. For the most of this story, I wrote the next chapter because you reviewed. I completely agree about the Clinton comment. I prefer reading about her in articles because when you actually hear her voice...cringe, haha. Alfred will give in eventually...and trust me China will be an interesting call. Haha I didn't even think about Michelle. And you don't know how right you are with that question...

Powdy: I am glad you decided to stop being sneaky! Sneaky people are only cool when theyre ninjas. -yes, I realize that statement was lame. I think what I am going to do with the Pirate Iggy scene is create it as a one shot because I don't think it will appear so vividly in this story. I'll def tell you guys if and when I post it as a one shot. But I def love a story with angst. They are more fun to write. You are still a republican even if you can't vote! So high five!

Losio: Thank you so much! I do try hard to keep everything factual and the characters incharacter so I'm glad you're liking my take on it!

SilverTrain:No kidding he does. Writing only a few of them killed me. Haha, yes Alfred def has the best reactions. He's such a little drama queen. I love it!

Wallflower: Lol I am sorry I made you wait, but hope this chapter makes up for the long wait.

Passionateartist: What picture was it? I want to know! There are a few that come to my mind that really make me like Rusame. I am glad my story is making you like the pairing, though I won't lie, there are some stories that are ten times better then this that you have to check out. There is that one on live journal that every Rusame fan has read. I can't remember the name at the moment, but I'm sure someone will remind me in a review. It's amazing! I do also enjoy USUK. It's growing on me. I usually have tons of OTPs that switch and are complicated haha...as seen with this story. Anyways I hope you continue to enjoy this and welcome to the Rusame world!

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><p>Alfred sat in the park right behind the White House. He saw the tourist snuggled closely to the black fence so they could a better view of the fountain or hoping to catch a glimpse of the president through the windows. Most staff members did most of their work within the White House, but Alfred could never work there. Everyone was too stressed out which in turned stressed him out. He preferred to take his laptop to the monuments or a park. He would put in his headphones and play his favorite music as he shifted through document after another. For that reason, he usually carried along his large black backpack that resembled something a middle school student had. It even had a large picture of superman on its front pouch. He didn't mind the stares he got though. To him the backpack was his personal office, and he needed to be reminded that he was a hero so he could force himself to push through all the annoying paperwork. He didn't even know why the Whitehouse had an office for him. It was practically empty except for his bag that he would put there when he had to go to meetings and stuff. Now Alfred's home office was a complete mess full of random documents and classified things. He started piling documents based by centuries so there were two large piles at the back of it. He could finish work in their too, but if he was already in centered DC he preferred the to work outside. He pulled out his laptop (also decorated with superhero stickers) and placed it on his lap. He opened up the CIA app he had on it that would allow him to get up to date information on whatever country or person he was calling. It also kept the calls recorded. CIA knew how to do their jobs and do it well.<p>

He pulled out his iphone and ran through the contacts. Most of these people he desperately didn't want to call. He had to call the OPEC countries? God, talk about an America Hate Club. At least they had a general office number so he didn't have to call each of them separately. They usually forwarded it to one country or another. Please just not Venezuela, she had been such a bitch the last time they spoke. She even insulted his glasses! His glasses! He pressed the number as he ran a search in the CIA database for the OPEC countries.

It rang and rang. Maybe, he would get a message. Oh how awesome would that be!

"Hello, the most influential Arab country speaking. And Iran, if this is you calling to complain about America again, I have become quite bored with the conversation. It is the reason I am not picking up my personal phone for you. Do not try to sneak in talking with the magnificent me by calling the OPEC line. Oh and before you ask, yes I am the most influential Arab country. You are like the Middle East's retarded cousin. We have to love you, but we all wished your mother and father wouldn't have been incestuous because you brought such dishonor to the family. Please do not start making threats because none of us believe you have nuclear weapons. If you continue with that nonsense then maybe I will stress that you should not have any nuclear power plants."

Alfred was speechless for a moment as he listened to the countries spill to Iran before he snapped out of it. "Hey Saudi…uh this is actually America," he said somewhat awkwardly into the phone. He clicked on a photo of Saudi Arabia. Saudi Arabia looked like an older more defined Aladdin. Sometimes Alfred wondered if Disney did use Saudi Arabia as his inspiration on how Aladdin should work…I mean the man even had a monkey even though there really aren't monkeys in Saudi Arabia.

"Oh my apologies America, Iran has been such a bother recently. How can I help, dear?" he asked smoothly from the other line, "It is quite unlike you to call the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries. You are quite lucky that I just took over the phones, Venezuela had them before me."

Alfred couldn't help but let out a sigh in relief at that statement. He would much rather talk to Saudi then any of the other countries. He knew the man wasn't fond of him, but they held a mutual understanding. Alfred didn't like how Saudi had horrible human rights, and Saudi didn't like how America got involved in the Middle East. They overlook their differences because of the oil. It always gnawed at Alfred that he had to focus first on his people before Saudi Arabia's, but it was job of the country. But the fact that he called him dear always rubbed him the wrong way.

"No big deal brah. I'm always shock you can even put up with Iran. Uh…but ," he started not knowing how to go into this.

"America, I have all the time in the world for you dear, but I still don't enjoy it being wasted," the man said from the other line.

America frowned a little. Rip it off like a band-aid. "Well my government is having issues with the budget. We have the money we do. We just can't figure out exactly how were going to divide it up. But anyways my Boss told me that all our interest will be paid, so you guys don't have to worry on that front. So basically just tellin' you there's no reason to worry." He said it all very quickly and then grinned when he was finish.

"America, we were not worried to begin with," he started which made Alfred happy, "You purchase our oil, we use the money you purchase to invest in your government so you may buy even more oil. We are the true winners here. We gain profit from interest and future purchase in our product. You pay now or in the future, it does not matter. We know we will be paid in the end. Though I am certain some of my brothers would be quite thrilled if your government did collapse. I think they would even overlook the payment just to enjoy your failure. Either way we come up on top. Do you understand?"

America frowned as he listened to Saudi. He found himself angrily tapping on the edge of his laptop. He preferred Saudi to the other Middle Eastern countries because he was upfront with him on everything. There was no hidden agenda, but for someone to so easily state his selfish reasons rubbed him the wrong way. "Yeah dude, totally," he said with a little less enthusiasm.

"Quite good then. Is there anything else you needed to discuss? Tariffs possibly?" the Saudi Arabian asked.

Alfred had his lip pushed out in annoyance. He danced a weird line with OPEC. "No that's it. I'll talk to ya later, Saudi. Keep Iran in check for me will ya," he said a little happier.

"We all attempt to. Farewell, America," Saudi Arabia stated then clicked off the phone.

Alfred brought his eyes to the phone and glared at it. Was every phone call going to go that bad? Ugh. He looked up at the statue in the middle of the park. It was Andrew Jackson, one of his old bosses on a horse. "Can't you do this instead of me?" he asked numbly to the muted statue. When he didn't receive a response he said quietly, "Yeah that's what I thought."

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><p>Twenty-seven countries sat around a long circular table. Miniature flags unique to each country sat next to a nametag of their country's name. On one side of the circle sat the most powerful economies within the union: France, Germany, England, and Sweden. France's eyes were locked somewhere on the ceiling daydreaming, Germany was shuffling and organizing all of his papers into multiple straight piles, Sweden sat stiffly staring across the room at little Finland, and England…well England was debating whether he wanted to pick up smoking again. During the great wars, he had smoked packs of cigarettes a day. He couldn't remember why he had quit. He assumed it had something to do with America. Of course when the brat quit smoking the entire world was expected to follow. During the sixties that kid went through more cigarettes then Arthur could buy. He was such a hypocrite. A jerk too. A jerk who wasn't picking up his calls. It was just plain rude. England had been planning on apologizing too, but not anymore! No, America should apologize to him. He was the one who never informed him he was hooking up with Russia. God, Russia. Out of all the bloody countries in the world why would the git choose him.<p>

"Let's get the meeting of European Union underway," Germany said loudly. Even though France was between Germany and him, Germany's loud voice managed to shake his form. "The main issue of today's meeting is Greece's debt. We also will be discussing Ireland, Portugal, Spain, and Italy's debt crisis's as well," the loud German said with annoyance and dread in his voice.

Portugal and Spain sat across the table. Portugal was primping himself as he looked in the mirror. He barely took note to the statement about him. If he wasn't covering himself up with make up, it would have been painfully obvious how sickly pale the country was. Spain had his head cradled in his hand. His brown eyes stared at the brown oak table with dread. Ireland was a few seats away from England. Her curly red hair was less bright and even with the sickly expression on her face she still had her hand on a beer. She also shot England a few dirty looks. Italy swayed back and forth in his chair. Though when Germany mentioned his name he cowered with an innocent, "Ve."

Greece was sleeping….and coughing. His loud coughs echoed through the room. He shifted in his chair in a ball form. His body shivered in his white tee-shirt, and his hands reached out for a blanket that didn't exist a few times.

Europe was in a tough spot. The world was in a tough spot. England looked at the other countries in disgust. He remembered when France proposed the idea of a united currency. England had found the idea absurd. He had no problem having free trade with the other countries of Europe, but to unit his currency with them was absolutely ridiculous. It would mean he would have no have control over his own monetary policy. He had rejected the idea immediately, but somehow France had managed to convince the majority of the European Union and now the Euro was on the verge of collapse.

"Greece, have you managed to make the necessary budget cuts to your government?" Germany asked sternly to the sleeping country. Greece didn't respond. He merely shifted in his chair to better lean his head on the armrest.

"Greece!" Germany said loudly as he slammed his hand on the table.

Greece head shot up from the chair. His eyes opened slowly as he glanced around the room with a tired expression. He rubbed his eyes before letting out a large yawn. The rest of the countries waited patiently, but the tension filled through the room. "Uh sorry, what were we talking about?" Greece asked as he stretched his arms. As his arms reached for the air a cough escaped his throat. He was forced to cover his mouth as he got control of his coughing.

Germany let out a frustrated sigh before stating, "Have you made the cuts?"

"Oh those…" Greece said as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked up at Germany with a lazy expression. "I have made some cuts, but overall no."

England listened carefully to the statements. It didn't affect him whether Greece got out of his crisis or not. He hadn't been stupid enough like France and Germany to bail out the lazy country.

"Greece, if you do not make the necessary cuts I will not give you the next payment of the bail out funds," Germany informed factually.

"Ah qui, Greece you really must put more effort in. How can you expect a lover to stay if you do not show her results?" France added. His form leaned over the table almost seductively.

England's eyebrows furrowed. Everything had to be about love with that bastard. Could he not just discuss something professionally? England felt his eye twitching. He needed to go into his happy place. He was at home reading a good book. Yes, happy place.

Greece yawned again. "I'll get the cuts down. My people are just…it will take time," Greece stated.

"Mon ami, we would not be pressuring you if we had other countries contributing, but Germany and I are the only ones putting in the initiative. If England were to help?" France suggested.

England glared at the Frenchman as their eyes locked. "Why the bloody hell would I help? The euro is not my concern," he snapped out.

"But mon cher, we all are Europe." France said sweetly.

"Frog, I am not getting into this mess. You just want more money to spend on your prostitutes," England yelled as he leaned towards France and his flowy blond hair.

France shook his long blond hair out of his face with a small smile. "Prostitutes? Love is not something I have to purchase, mon cher. I have you as a friend remember," he answered.

England face flushed at that statement. As the memory of America's birthday popped into his head. "Don't insinuate that I would have anything to do with you, you beardy bastard!" England shouted.

Germany's hand had turned into a fist at his side as his frustration continued to grow. "Enough!" he shouted, silencing the two of them, "Greece if you do not make the cuts you will not receive the funds. That is the end of that topic," he informed loudly. Greece sighed before slouching in his chair to get more comfortable for another nap. "We will have a guest appearing soon, but before then I would like to discuss the topic of introducing Turkey to the EU."

"What! No way!" Greece straightened with new energy.

England frowned. They shouldn't be talking about introducing anyone. They barely had a handle on the countries within the union. He didn't get a chance to voice this because his phone started to vibrate. With a jerky movement he pulled out his new blackberry. It was probably the Prime Minister.

America

England blinked as he read the title on his phone. "Excuse me," he said quietly as he pushed out his chair. His heart had started to pound uncomfortably in his chest as he made his way to the door. America was calling him. Was he going to apologize or was he going to act like nothing had changed? Or maybe the git was just calling to talk about video games again. He opened the door to the hall, not noticing that France's eyes had followed him the entire time.

When the door closed he brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?" he said into the phone waiting to hear America's cheerful voice.

It was silent on the other end. England found his eyes darting uncomfortably around the elegant hallway as he waited for a response…any response. When he still received nothing after a few more seconds, he snapped, "America, I know it's you. What do you want?"

"Uh hey old man…."America's voice commented on the phone. England brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose trying to rub away the frustration. He leaned against the hallway wall.

"Alfred?" he said quietly. Should he apologize? He had been quite rude to America at his birthday. He should apologize, but America had ignored his calls.

"Arthur, um…well, just wanted to tell you that we'll be paying our interest. That's it. Goodbye," America stated on the phone.

"Wait Alfred!" he shouted into the phone unexpectedly. A few staff members walking down the hall gave him a strange glance. Arthur's face burned, he quickly covered it with his hand as he turned to face the wall. What had become of him to call out to Alfred like some needy girl? He just didn't want America to hate him. The boy was an idiot, but he was still the idiot he loved. He had gone a century with America hating him, and he never wanted to go back to that.

"What is it, Arthur?" Alfred asked with no slang whatsoever. Arthur found himself swallowing thickly at the seriousness in the tone. America was truly mad at him.

"I'm sorry, okay," he stressed in a harsh whisper. "I shouldn't have said those things, under the influence or not. I am a gentleman so I can admit I am wrong."

The silence ate at him. He couldn't quite understand why it was so painful for him. America was an obnoxious git. He shouldn't care. The arse got what was coming to him half the time….but…but he was still his little America. "Bro, it's fine," America answered finally, "You always act like a dumped prom queen when you're drunk. You really should look into a cure for light weightness." America's laugh echoed on the other end.

He frowned at the comment, but inwardly he was happy. America had forgiven him. "Don't say stupid things. It makes you sound like an idiot," he scolded from the other end.

"It can't be stupid if it's true, Iggy," America said cheerfully. The words that came out of the boy's mouth were obnoxious, but Arthur couldn't help the small smile from appearing on his face.

"I'll have you know I have quite a handle on my liquor. There have only been a few mishaps," he informed as he turned away from the wall.

Laughter sounded on the phone. This laughter felt more real and less tense then America's previous laughter. "A few? Gezz and people say my math is bad," America noted.

"Okay, a little more then a few, but when France drugged my wine could hardly count," he answered. As he turned from the wall and looked down the hallway, he saw the elevator doors open. He paused in his train of thought. What was he doing here?

"France still claims he didn't do it. I think ya just secretly love the guy," America's voice turned into the background as he watched the large Russian man walk down the hallway in an agile sweater. When in the world did Russia start wearing agile? Russia's thoughts appeared to be somewhere else. His eyes barely taking note to anything in his surroundings. He almost ran over a staff member. It wasn't until he was a few feet away did he even notice England.

Arthur glared at the man with distaste. He used to feel indifference to the man. Russia actions held little consequences to him and for that reason he couldn't bring himself to care, but ever since America's birthday, he hated him. "Hello England, you seem much more coherent, da," the Russian said with a smile.

"As you can see, I am on the phone," he snapped. Arthur probably resembled a pissed off peacock with how his shoulder puffed out.

"Who's that? France just knows were talkin' about him, and he appears," America said on the phone with a laugh, "Guy has a radar like an attention whore."

"Yes, let me guess, it's America," Russia said with a smile. His hands folded.

England just shot him an angrier glare, which caused Russia to nod, "With your limited amount of friends it is not too difficult to determine, da."

"This is a European Union meeting. There is no reason for you to be here," he stated coldly. He felt slightly intimidated by the bigger man. The man had managed to give him the creeps even when he was a small boy. There was something strange that followed the man. He had seen it on a few occasions. It was like a ghostly creature that seemed to wrap his arms around Russia in an icy grip. England had never mentioned it because Flying Mint Bunny told him the creature was cold and evil. To have such evil following him around only proved to Arthur that Russia was not a man he ever wanted to have interactions with. But if he had to protect America he would. The stupid git never knew what he got himself into.

"Iggy dude, stop ignoring me. It's not cool," America whined on the phone.

Russia tilted his head to the side as he smiled down on Arthur. "Geographically, I could be considered Europe, yet I am excluded. No matter, the EU will fall soon with your crumbling currency. Luckily, I have come to be your savior," Russia said taking a step forward. It caused Arthur to unwillingly take a step back.

Arthur felt his anger rising. He wanted to pull out his wand and send Russia back to his country. He wanted to rebuttal against the man or say something snappy, but Arthur was feeling uncomfortably cold. Without the influence of alcohol he couldn't push up enough courage to truly fight against this man. He just continued to glare in disgust.

"If you wish to hear out my help, you should actually attend your meetings instead of chatting with Amerika, da" Russia said happily. He then turned towards the door, but before opening it he turned his head back to Arthur. "Do tell Amerika that I would quite enjoy recounting his display of desperateness," he gave one more smile before turning and walking through the door leaving a furious Englishman.

"Seriously not cool. Iggy, you there?" America asked over the phone as Arthur proceeded to glare at the door.

"Did you sleep with Russia?" he bit out. Why would America do such a thing? It was bloody disgusting and juvenile. America hated Russia. NATO was form from that hatred. No, America couldn't betray NATO by doing such an action…he couldn't betray him.

"What! Where did you hear that?" America's worried voice asked.

Arthur found his eye twitching as he heard the response. No, it couldn't be true. Japan had to have been misinformed. But America hadn't said no. "Answer the question, did you sleep with Russia?" Arthur asked a bit more firmly.

"No dude! Seriously, who told you that?" America asked.

Arthur let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Thank god. He smiled a little bit. Russia was just a liar. Japan was misinformed. It was all some large misunderstanding. "I apologize," he answered, "Japan thought he saw you two kissing. He must have just mistaken." Arthur was so glad that this was behind him. The boy was a twat, but he wasn't that much of a twat. He really shouldn't let Russia ruffle his feathers in such a way. The man was merely looking for a reaction.

America coughed.

Arthur paused in his pacing in the hallway. It wasn't America's economic recession, I don't know if my economy will survive, I'll make the world sick with me cough. It was his _well-actually_ cough. No…

"Well actually…uh…well um yeah, we kissed," Alfred stuttered out similarly to how he would stutter when Arthur caught him in lies in his youth.

Arthur's mouth went dry, as words seemed lost to him. Alfred had actually kissed Russia. Hearing it from Alfred's mouth caused a quick sharp pain in his chest that Arthur quickly pushed aside. He cared for Alfred…but not in that way…correct? He should not be hurt or jealous. It had been almost forty years since they had that type of relationship. It had been awkward for the most part with the Vietnam War finally driving them apart. He didn't quite understand why part of him missed it. No, he was not jealous of Russia. He was merely furious with America's stupidity. "Why the bloody hell would you do that? When I said be mature about the past I did not mean get into his bloody knickers," he growled into the phone as his pacing started again.

If Arthur weren't so focus on how furious he was he would have realized how embarrassed Alfred was. The silence on the phone, the awkward shifting heard in the distants, and the hesitation were all clues to America's feelings, but none of that could get through Arthur's own personal mantra ranging in his head.

"Uh um, well brah, it's not that big of a deal. Come on it's just kissing. Doesn't mean anything," America informed over the phone.

Arthur's tacky suit seemed to be come more of a mess with how fast he was pacing back and forth. "Doesn't mean anything? Do you even listen to yourself as you speak? You are the United States of America, a member of NATO. All your personal actions do not only have an effect on you, but your allies. Out of all the bloody people to have meaningless….you are such a twat. You must start being conscious of your actions," England ranted onto the phone.

Arthur was also too furious to notice how irritated Alfred was starting to become.

"Arthur calm down. Seriously dude, it was a kiss. My policies aren't changing. Gezz, you're acting like a mother," Alfred said with a sigh.

"A mother!" England shouted, the pang in his heart growing at that comment, "Maybe if you had a woman's touch in your growth you wouldn't have turned into such a stupid git! What the bloody hell were you thinking? Russia? That's almost as bad as Iran! No, I apologize, how about I call North Korea and you can have your fun, as you say, in his knickers as well."

"Arthur! It's not that big of a deal! Damn it," Alfred muttered to himself, "Just stay out of my personal business okay?"

Arthur's eyes widened, "Do you plan to continue such nonsense?"

"Yes, I mean no. I mean, it's just not any of your business okay. Russia and I are…well…we're not friends…but ugh. Just stop it! It's not that big of a deal. I'll talk to you later, Iggy. I got a ton of phone calls to make," America said in hurry.

"What? Don't hang up on me Alfred F. Jones!" Arthur scolded, "What you do is my business. As long as we our allies your actions are my concern."

"Bye Arthur. Peace," Alfred said quickly, and then Arthur heard the click.

Arthur pulled the phone from his ear and looked at it with a shock expression. "The stupid git actually hung up on me!" he hissed. Something was going on between Russia and America, and America wasn't telling him. Would America actually…his boss was starting that ridiculous 'Restart' plan. No, America would not replace him as an ally. He couldn't.

"I am quite surprised these words are leaving my mouth, but Alfred is right, mon ami," the voice caused him to jump and whip his head behind him. Standing next to the closed doors to the conference room was France. He inwardly groaned. The man wore a light flashy blue suit and a pink tie. It could hardly be considered fashionable. His scruff of beard was also quite distasteful. How could people accuse him of not having a fashion sense? (We all know France was looking hot.)

"Stay out of this, Frog," he muttered. He shot his phone another glare before stuffing it into his pocket.

Francis pushed himself off the wall. The way Francis walked could be comparable to a poodle or a pedophile. "But mon ami, if Alfred's love affairs are NATO's concerns as you explained then I should be involved," Francis said with a sly smile, "I have never liked being in the dark well except for that one young lady in the Alps." Francis walked towards Arthur, almost to an uncomfortable distance.

Arthur frowned was followed by a glare. "You don't give a damn about NATO if anything you joined because your military is filled with pansies," Arthur snapped at the Frenchman.

Francis pouted at that comment before a seductive smile replaced it. His hand came up to Arthur's hair. He grabbed a piece within his fingers and twiddle with it lightly. His eyes considerately glanced over Arthur's features. "I quite like NATO. I have you to protect me, mon ami," he said, almost leaning down for a kiss.

Arthur went stiff in Francis's affections. His mind went back to the blurry night of America's birthday, the tears that had streamed down his face as he sat in the stairwell. America hated him. America hated him, and he loved America. He heard the sound of the stairwell door opening. He didn't look up. He continued to bury his face in the palms of his hands.

"Arthur?"

"Leave me alone, bearded bastard!" he shouted, hoping Francis would leave. As always though, the Frenchman moved and sat right next to him on the stairs. He felt a hand slowly wrap around his shoulders. It gave him a tight squeeze, which only caused the tears to restart. He fell into Francis's chest, as the man continued to silently consol him. "How did-did you find me?" Arthur finally managed to choke out through his sobs.

Francis continued to rub his back in a calming fashion. "When you're upset and not at home, you always go to the stairwell," he informed him. Arthur felt Francis's head nuzzle into the top of his hair in a supportive matter, "I believe it has something to do with the escape aspect of stairwells."

Arthur sniffled and buried his face deeper into Francis's nice suit. He took a deep breath and smelled a mixture of flowers and croissants. It was soothing in its own way. "It will be okay, Arthur," Francis said soothingly.

Arthur wanted to believe him, but the pain in his heart told him otherwise. "No, no, it won't be," he muttered. France was stupid. He couldn't understand. He always got what he wanted. People always loved him. He was pretty and popular. He had always been the country who got the most attention when he was younger. France was proper. He had always been jealous of him at that age. It was why he pushed himself to become the British Empire. America though…America had chosen him over France. It was the first time something like that had ever occurred, and America loved him with all of his heart. It was so different from his brothers. America was filled with so much joy. His heart cracked and he let out a painful whimper at the thought of the Revolution. No, he didn't want America to hate him. He never wanted to see that pure hatred in his eyes again. The same hatred he had seen on….on…that boat, he had seen it tonight.

He felt a finger under his chin. It forced his head upwards to see Francis's supportive gaze. "America's an idiot, mon ami," he told him, "If he does not realize how much you care then maybe he is not worth your tears." Francis's finger holding his chin moved to cup his cheek.

"He's right to be mad. I nagged and insulted him…and he…he left," Arthur protested. His green eyes were wet with a mixture of anger and sadness.

Francis gave him a smile. Arthur eyes turned to a glare. Why was he smiling? "You always nag and insult, Arthur. It is who you are. It's why you are so endearing," he said sweetly leaning his forehead against Arthur's.

Arthur's anger went away with the comment. "Endearing?" he repeated. He had never been called that before...

Francis eyes awkwardly shifted between his and to the ground. "To be honest, I love you, Arthur," he then brought his eyes back to England's in search of something. All he saw was England's shock face, so feeling embarrassed he continued, "I know you are in love with Alfred. I am not asking you not to be…I just wanted you to know and was hoping that maybe one day in the future you would think about giving us a chance. I know we fight, and I insult you and your big eyebrows. They are quite drastically big, but I find them cute. I'm sorry; I am usually not this bad at this type of thing. I am the country of love. You would assume I could profess it correctly. I just become fraz-"

Arthur leaned up and kissed Francis on the lips successfully shutting him up before he said something annoying. While this certainly wasn't Arthur's first kiss with Francis, it did feel different. There was something more real behind it. Francis was always gentle in his affection. With this kiss there was more need behind it. The way his hand pressed into his back to pull him closer made Arthur feel wanted. Arthur wasn't so much thinking about whether he loved Francis. He just knew that all he wanted was to be loved and cared for by someone at the moment. He would even use Francis.

"Don't touch me," he snapped, hitting Francis's hand away from his hair.

Arthur barely caught a glimpse of Francis's sadness before Francis remarked, "Good things I was wearing gloves, you're unconditioned hair would have fallen with a mere touch."

Arthur glared remembering all of Francis's insults through out the years. Their many fights could always outshine the one kind moment Francis had showed him. "At least I look like a man, frog," he shouted irritated.

"Maybe if you showed more sensitivity, America would actually be interested in your pathetic pinning," Francis gave a teasing smile as he stepped closer to Arthur. The small amount of space between them would normally make Arthur very uncomfortable. He ignored it.

"I'm not bloody pinning. I am only looking out for the best interest of NATO," Arthur informed. He kept his fist towards his side. The memory of the many times he had painfully put France in his place during his time as an empire repeated in his mind.

"Ah," Francis smile got bigger, but Arthur was completely oblivious to the pain within it. "The best interest of NATO. So you consider poor innocent me as your thoughts dip around America?" Francis asked in an almost sarcastic way.

"What is that suppose to mean?" Arthur snapped, stepping closer to the long blond Frenchman. Was he insinuating something?

The next thing Arthur knew Francis's lips were on top of his in a soft kiss. Arthur's eyes widen in shock. What was he doing? America's birthday should be the only time this type of strange behavior occurred.

Francis pulled away slowly. His eyes locked with Arthur's. "I know you love him, but I will not wait forever for you," Francis stated seriously. The Frenchman than planted one quick kiss on Arthur's opened and shocked lips before turning down the hall. Arthur merely stood there as he watched the bloody blond disappear down the hallway. Was Francis serious? Did he really believe they would work together? Arthur's face scrunched together before he let out a huff and crossed his arms. He didn't need Francis's waiting for him, and he wasn't 'pinning' over America. He just didn't want America to hate him. Francis's doesn't know what he's talking about!

Francis rounded the corner and pressed his back up against it as soon as he was out of view of Arthur. He loosened his tie immediately. He needed to breath. The back of his head then fell back onto the wall. He started to take in deep relaxing breaths. Arthur was obtuse. He was the country of love and he had to fall in love with the most unromantic brash man in the world.

Francis smiled to himself. He secretly could be considered a masochist. While he enjoyed a kink on occasion he never had thought of that before. How strange…

A large metal bang sounded above him, and Francis flinched at the noise. His eye carefully looked at the ceiling tiles. An invasion! No, not again! Germany that horrible horrible man! He would not take Paris again! Not again. Wait, he wasn't in France. He was in Brussels.

He smiled at himself. "Oh silly moi. The World Wars are over," he flipped his hair out his face.

Another loud clank sounded causing Francis's eyebrow to lift on his forehead. Another banging clank sound…quite strange. It seemed to be moving in the direction of the conference room…

* * *

><p><em>A few minutes earlier<em>

When Ivan walked into the conference room, the yelling that was occurring between Greece and the other countries stopped immediately. Every country around the circular table turned to look at him. They all seemed frozen by his presence. He never understood why he earned this reaction. He smiled politely in hopes to calm the atmosphere. It only caused Finland to cower into his notebook.

Ivan's eyes glanced around the room in search of some familiar friends. Aw there they are. The three Baltic states were seating next to eachother. They all were shaking in excitement with seeing Russia again. Ivan was excited to see them as well. They had not kept in contact very well since the fall of the Soviet Union. It greatly disappointed him. Ivan gave a lighthearted wave at his old friends.

Latvia started crying tears of joy as he gripped into Estonia. Oh it was quite an emotional moment. If Ivan were a weaker man he would shed a tear as well.

"Russia, we are glad you could join us on such short notice," Germany said, standing up from his chair.

"Da, it would be quite unkind to watch you suffer. I hope I can be of some help," he said sweetly from his standing position in front of the table. As the words left his mouth, France shifted from his chair.

"Big Brother has business to attend to, but I am quite happy you have joined our poor meeting today, Ivan," France said with a smile, "I will come back soon." France then quickly strutted past the table and Ivan to the exit at the Conference door.

Germany let out a frustrated sigh. "These meetings are mandatory, ja. Does anyone else feel the need to leave? No, Italy you may not get a pasta break!" Germany shouted. Ivan watched as no one else raised their hands. Germany then nodded, "Good. Russia continue then."

Ivan nodded as he continued to smile. He walked further into the room to get a better glimpse of the European countries. They were all weak. Very weak. "Spaciba, Mother Russia has been watching you recently," he began kindly, "You have been struggling. I can help you."

"Like why would we want help from like you," Poland said in a huff and he scooted his chair closer to Russia's little Lithuania.

"I must agree with the improper delinquent," Austria began crossing his arms over his chest, "Europe must handle our own problems. Germany looking for outside helps is slightly disheartening."

Ivan's smile only grew. He walked around the circular table towards his friends. "Hasty Poland is placing his emotions in front of Europe's well being, you should not listen to him, Austria" Ivan informed the counties. He had lived with Poland for years and quite despised the cross-dressing country. He was weak, loud, and disrespectful. "The personal interest is why your union threatens to unravel in front of you. You do not feel responsible for one another. A German worker works much harder than a Greece worker, yet the German is force to pay." As Ivan spoke, he had to control his gag reflex. This speech Putin had practiced with him sounded far more like that capitalist pigs type of thinking then his own at the beginning, but the speech was far from over. Stupid America, who had not even called. "Is that wrong?" he asked with a smile. His fingers traced lightly on the top of the chairs as he passed each country. He watched as each country shivered uncomfortably with how close Russia was to them. "To some, you would say yes. The father works harder then the mother, yet they both live under the same roof and eat the same food. Is that wrong? Nyet. As a family, we make sacrifices for the children to help them grow, da? If we did not, they would be a drain upon us. You are a family that is letting the limited money tear you apart. I only want to provide a solution so your family can continue to grow," he stated stopping behind one country. His hand moved to the shoulder of the country.

Spain stiffened immediately. The chill of Russia's hand felt even colder with his fever. "I do not like watching a family fall apart," Ivan's eyes glanced at his Baltic states. They had left him. There family had fallen apart and now he was alone. "I will give Spain the necessary money for his deficit. Quite kind, da?" he stated. He couldn't provide the funding to bail out all of Europe, but he could appear to be helping.

"This seems a bit too kind," Denmark yelped aloud from his place near his own brothers. Ivan was certain he meant it to be a quiet remark to Sweden, but Denmark had issues keeping his voice lowered.

Sweden shot Denmark a sharp glare before focusing on Russia, "What'r is it that you plan to get from this?"

Ivan smiled and finally let go of Spain's shoulder causing the Spaniard to release the breath he had been holding. Ivan had been expecting this question. They were right to be suspicious. He had little faith that the European Union would survive in the long run unless the countries decided to merge into unity, unlikely. He did know that investing into their euro would give him the necessary influence in Europe until they did collapse. If they did collapse he would have even more influence. It was his similar reason for investing into America. "It is very depressing to see a family tore apart by pure economics. Empathy, da?"

The other countries around the table took glances between Russia and the countries that used to be under the Iron Curtain. Austria placed his hand on top of Hungary's hand that had turned into an angry fist.

"Ja, I think we should accept Russia's help. With the current situation we need time in order for countries to reform their systems," Germany stated, "I would have a vote, but sine France and England have left, I will call for a ten minute break. All who agree say Ay."

"Ay," everyone in the meeting said immediately.

"I'm getting pasta! Germany come with me!" Italy shouted quite loudly for a sick country and yanked the German out of his chair.

"Ja. Ja. Calm down. You should not be moving around so much," Germany said as he was pulled to the exit. As the other countries exited the room, Ivan slowly moved towards the Baltic States.

"Hello comrades," he said politely with a large smile. He had missed them in his home: Latvia with his odd comments, Estonia keeping everyone tempered, and Lithuania spreading his kindness to all. He so desired to go back to the time he was not alone.

"Like stay away from Lithuania, Russia," Poland appeared in between Ivan and his friends.

Ivan walked right up to Poland. The she-man was so short compared to him it was almost pathetic. "It is quite impolite to interrupt," Ivan informed him of his misbehavior. The three Baltic States stayed planted in their chairs. Lithuania was giving Poland's arm a tug, telling him to leave. The room was empty except for Greece still sleeping in his chair. He had fallen asleep during Ivan's speech.

"I am not going to like let you hurt him," Poland said poking Ivan's agile sweater with his finger. Ivan's smile froze painfully. Poland had just touched his sweater. Poland had just touched his sweater in the very place America would normally. It was the reason he had purchase the nicer clothing so when America did grab it or touch it like he normally would, the boy would feel how nice it was. It wasn't for Poland's grimy hands.

He grabbed the finger with his hand. "You really shouldn't touch nice things, you might," he bent it backwards causing Poland to let out a squeal, "break them, da?" He let go of the broken finger and Poland hid it in his hand away from Russia.

"You bastard!" Poland shouted.

"Feliks!" Lithuania said jumping up to wrap his arms around Poland's shoulder. He then looked at Russia with a worry glance. "Mr. Russia, we are quite pleased to see you again, but you cannot hurt Poland," Lithuania said sweetly.

He always was a very sweet boy. It was why Ivan always found him quite attractive. While nice, though, he was a coward. The fearful look in his eyes was why Ivan ended it. "I cannot?" Ivan asked with false confusion, "I am certain there is nothing stopping me, da?"

"Mr. Russia, did you really sleep with your sister?" Latvia asked, completely oblivious to how stupid it was to ask that question in the current situation. (Poor Latvia.)

The air in the room was thick as pure silence went through the room (except Greece's snoring). Latvia face resembled a naïve rabbit. Lithuania was shaking so hard he was forcing Poland to shake with him. Estonia calmed his shiver by pushing up his glasses. "Latvia, you must learn to close your mouth," Estonia said quietly before getting up out of his chair, "I must go get water for the meeting." The man clearly lied to get out of this horrible situation. He even muttered a good luck as he left.

"Like what the fuck?" Poland asked. He had been left out of the eastern countries gossiping circle.

"Uh, h-he means did you and your sisters ever share a bed when you were younger!" Lithuania stuttered out quickly to save Latvia.

Ivan whole body had frozen in his state. They knew. They knew what he had done to his sister. Natalya had told someone. He shouldn't have been surprised. He should have been more surprised by the fact she hadn't announced to the world an engagement. His mantra left his lips without his knowledge as his mind wandered over everything. Natalya had told someone, probably Lithuania. He must have been with her and him….talk about a slut. A large part of him wanted to backhand the country. Lithuania must not be as nice as he had first thought. He turned to Latvia. He brought his hand on top of the smaller nation's head. He then pushed the shaking nation down hard.

"You are too short Latvia. It is the reason they still have not accepted your Euro bid," he gave his friend friendly advice as he continued to push down on Latvia's head. Latvia face was scrunching in pain. "You must become big and strong to join a western currency."

"I-I try," a tear slipped down Latvia's face, "Seeing you l-less is h-helping me grow."

Russia pushed harder.

"What like does that have to do with sleeping with like your sister? Did you really?" Poland asked. The country didn't even notice his broken finger. Gossip was on the line.

A loud metal bang sounded in the room causing all of them to look up at the ceiling. A few countries who had just went down to the vending machine were just entering through the door.

"What was that?" Finland said in fear.

"I don't know," Sweden stated, protectively stepping in front of the boy.

Clack! Bang! Ugh! Clack!

Ivan focused partially on the ceiling and then back down at his old comrades. He already knew what was happening in the ceiling. He informed him politely that it was quite an unintelligent plan. No, his focus was on his friends who had left him. It felt like they were all against him. They had shared food and home for years. They had holidays together. They had played in the snow, building snowmen and forts. They had been a family. Not anymore…Ivan no longer had a family. He only had himself. He was alone. Why was he trying so hard to make friends? Why was he being so nice to all of these countries? He let go of Latvia's head.

The ceiling tiles started to shake.

America always had friends. Was it so horrible that Ivan wanted them as well? Stupid America. He hadn't called him. His boss and Putin had been disappointed. They were hoping that Ivan would come back with far superior news, but Ivan had nothing. America had given him nothing. His memories danced back to night to the warmth and skin. Admittedly, not nothing. But he hadn't gained influence. His boss had suggested calling, but Ivan was not going to call America first. America would call him. He would…

America had called England.

Ivan truly was not enjoying this day. He wanted to lay in a field of sunflowers. Please…just one sunflower.

The ceiling tile broke sprinkling the table with dust. A giant metal thing burst through the ceiling emptying out a large man who landed right on Greece's sleeping body. Greece's chair flipped over causing the two to land hard on the ground. Ivan's eyes broke from his thoughts to follow everyone's to where the two men had collapse. A second later a tall man in a white mask was standing pointing his hand in the air dramatically. He let out a laugh, "The great Turkey is here to join the European Union." His smile was trying to appear like rolling out of a vent into a meeting happened everyday, which with Turkey was actually a high possibility.

"You stupid old bastard, get off of me!" Greece shouted, "You should be shot and put down like a dog!" Greece struggled under Turkey's large boot.

"Aw kid, you think I am like a dog. I'm glad because I would never want to be comparable to one of your cats," Turkey smirked then pressed harder into Greece's stomach.

Ivan couldn't help the small smirk from appearing on his face. Turkey understood his pain. His family had left him. His family hated him. How did Turkey manage to keep on smiling?

"What the bloody hell is going on in here!" England shouted as he entered, "Turkey! We told you last time that you are not yet allowed in the EU!"

"Yet?" Turkey smirked, looking up at the stiff Brit, "Yet is something we can make happen sooner rather than later."

"I don't believe the air conditioning should be on our table, mon ami," France commented as he entered. He kept his distance away from England.

"No shit, fro-Francis," England fixed his words, "Get out of here, Turkey."

"No, I want to fight my case since I am certain it's the one thing the kid hasn't taken a nap in," Turkey shot Greece a glare who was only glaring right back.

Ivan was starting to feel ignored. It felt almost like he was bleeding into the walls to never be noticed apart from the wallpaper. He hated Europe. One sunflower. Two sunflower. Three sunflower. Four sunflower.

His phone vibrated in his pants, and he pulled his thoughts away from all the flowers. He reached in and pulled it out, quickly reading the name.

Поросенок

America was calling him.

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><p>Hope it was good!<p>

Translation:

Поросенок-Piggie


	15. Chapter 15

a/n: Sorry! School has been a nightmare, writers block, and batman all sort of slowed me down with this story. Thank you for all who have patiently waited for this to be updated. I want to apologize again because your guy's reviews are so great! I am still not too sure how I feel about this chapter, but *shrug* the characters just went that way. Warning this story is rated m. Also, I want to note that the next update probably will not occur for some time. I have finals next week, as well as three papers, so I won't have time. After that, I will try to keep up with this again!

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><p>Ivan looked at his phone like he was seeing a ghost. His eyes were slightly wide as he shifted the phone in his hands. Then slowly a real honest smile appeared on his lips. It was a good thing that everyone's attention was on Turkey and not on him. All the countries would have become generally crept out by the pureness of the smile. Ivan swiftly moved behind the yelling countries with out anyone turning a second glance. He was merely the wall at this point. He walked outside the conference room and down the hall. He wasn't particularly certain where he was going, but he didn't particularly want other's eavesdropping. For some reason, his conversations with America seemed private. When he was a distance from the conference room he flipped open his phone.<p>

"Hello Amerika, I have found myself missing your idiotic rambling," he said sweetly as his hand went to the doorknob of a random room. Locked. Ah, unfortunate. He put pressured down on the knob until hearing a crack. He then gently pushed opened the door to a darken room.

Even though he couldn't see the boy, he knew he was most likely giving him that annoyed frown. Ivan smiled at he flipped on the light switch revealing a smaller meeting room. "Dude, by idiotic ramblings you mean the words of pure genius, right? Missing me? I always knew you were like the stray little puppy attaching to anyone who shows you attention," America's voice answered on the phone with that sick taunting humor in his voice.

Ivan paused in his journey into the meeting room. He did not find that statement at all humorous. He hadn't even realized the words missing in relation to America had come out of his mouth. "I am afraid you misunderstood me, Amerika," he said with a small smile appearing on his face, "I enjoy speaking with you because you remind me of how much better I am then you. I feel there is a word…ah, yes, my self-esteem increases drastically in your presence." He shut the door behind him and slowly walked over to the closest chair.

He heard silence on the other end, which caused Ivan's grin to grow. He did not quite understand why he enjoyed communicating with the boy. He was loud and obnoxious, yet for some reason, recently, it had become entertaining. He then heard laughter. Ivan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a moment as he heard the boy's carefree laugh echo.

"So I am your hero then?" the boy asked confidently.

Ivan was even more confused. Did Amerika hear a different conversation from the reality? "Nyet. You understand English, da?" he asked, as he leaned back in the chair in the conference room. His free hand started to fiddle with the edge of his scarf as he talked. Technically within a month, they had talked over the phone twice. It was quite a record from the usual three times in possibly ten years.

"Of course I understand English, dude! English is my language. You said I make you not want to kill yourself anymore that means I save your life. I'm the hero!" the boy proclaimed.

Ivan's hand stopped fiddling with the scarf. He almost face palmed because of the pure idiocy of America's statements. Did America truly believe the things that came out of his mouth? Ivan shook his head for a moment. He controlled the urge to break something. "America, why are you calling exactly?" he decided a change in subject might be the best option.

It became silent. While at first this did not amaze him, it was when the silence continued to drawl out, Ivan eyebrow rose in curiosity. He had asked a fairly simple question. It could not take this long for America to answer. He heard shifting in the background, and a dog barking. He wasn't certain where America was, but he was obviously outdoors. "You wish to continue with your birthday activities?" he asked, a smirk appearing on his face. It was so lucky that Ivan was a patient man. He truly could wait for America's begging.

"What? No. No," America said very quickly. It was so fast that Ivan actually felt a strange feeling in his chest. It felt like a painful squeezing that related to rejection. His eyebrows furrowed, and he found himself actually looking down at his chest with a quizzical expression. Why was it doing that?

"Dude, you know the budget crunch my country is facing right now?" America began casually. Ah, so this phone call was for business. The weird feeling in his heart happened again. Had England's phone call also been business?

"Da, as always you have spent far beyond your means. Greed and gluttony are sins, Amerika," he said in his cheerful voice.

"I am a Christian, I know," America snapped back, "But that's not the point, Russia. We're fixing it. I just wanted to reassure you that even if we do not pass a budget, we would still pay our interest."

It all made sense. America was calling the countries who had invested in him, hoping to ensure his capitalistic markets that they had no fears. "I am supposed to rely only on your word, Amerika?" he asked, not enjoying that factor. He had no doubt that America had money. America was the richest country in the world. But Russia had doubt in his system. It was flawed from the beginning. His people bickered too much to actually accomplish anything.

"Of course," America said over the phone, "You can trust me, Russia."

Ivan stared off across the room as he considered America's words. He had heard them before. It was when the clouds had covered the sky and the sound of the powerful river could not outweigh the joyous conversations around them. When the Americans had gotten off the boat, the tension had felt too thick to breath. Every one of his men took in the Americans, determining who exactly these people were. He felt the Americans doing the same thing. They had each heard the rumors of the other country. They had both imagined seeing people more similar to monsters then to actual people with kind similar expressions. It wasn't until the American and the Soviet shook hands and smile did the feeling evaporate. The American smiled like America.

Ivan found his eyes glancing through the men in search of the naïve boy with too big of dreams. Another small boat landed on the shore, and just as his eyes crossed the area, he watched as a young man jumped out of the boat with enthusiasm to match a small child. He laughed victoriously until one of the men shouted at him to get back in line. When countries actually joined their people on the battlegrounds, most usually stayed in a lower officer rank. It was dependant on the situation. They usually worked all areas of their force from top officials to grunts, but there was always something about fighting with your men in the dirt. It gave you a sense of confidence or fear that was needed to make the right choices. For the last few months Ivan had been with his men. He assumed the same was for America.

Ivan stood in his place as he watched America pat his fellow soldiers on the back. America was so happy. Ivan's hand moved to his pocket, second nature at this point. His hands touched his cigarettes tin. He pulled it out with not much thought. His eyes finally leaving the supportive blond to open up the tin that had five cigarettes left. He plucked one out, snapping the tin close and brought the cigarette up to his lips. His hand dug into his pocket for matches. He knew the polite thing would be to meet the boy, but he had no desire to go out of his way. America and him had ended on tense terms at the last meeting. Ever since the collapse of the Czar, there relationship had crumbled. He grabbed the matches, but just as he pulled them out he heard a click and the sound of a spark. He glanced up with the cigarette dangling on his lips to see a flame only a few inches away. His eyes locked with sky blue.

"Hello America," he mumbled around his cigarette as he leaned forward, lighting it with the flame.

"Hey Russia," America responded, waiting for Russia to pull away before snapping the lighter shut.

Russia took a deep drag as he looked down at the smaller man. For someone who had just been shouting victoriously off a boat, he seemed tired. The bright blue in his eyes almost appeared dull.

"How have you been?" America asked with a force smile.

Ivan smiled politely around the cigarette as he pulled it from his mouth. "I am terrible. My population is shrinking," he stated. America's smile disappeared as he looked at him. He then nodded in understanding. Ha, could America really understand. He had come in late, after all. Ivan had lost far more men then him.

"It's over though," America said half heartedly as he shrugged in his military gear.

"Ah, but there will always be war in the future," Ivan responded. The boy was far too young to understand. Violence and war were always looming around the corner. He took another drag, letting the smoke escape his mouth.

America turned his head away from him, as if imagining something he had seen. Ivan felt his mood darken in an instant. "Ya, but it won't be like this. What Germany did…it's sick," America muttered in disgust.

Ivan knew exactly what the boy was talking about. It had been quite disturbing when they had entered the first camp. He had never expected such a thing from Germany. Germany was a driven, focus, and efficient man, but what he saw something else. Was he surprise? No. He felt his smile grow as a light chuckle left his lips. The boy was so naïve.

America whipped his head back to him, locking him with a glare. "It's not funny. It's disgusting," America snapped at him. His high naïve moral appeared instantly.

"So young Amerika," he said taking another drag before tossing it onto the muddy ground. He stepped onto it with a boot. "Insanity causes us to do despicable things," he informed.

The boy held the scowl on his face. "No, mass murder cannot be excused," America said raising his gloved fist in the air, it almost appeared as if the boy was protecting someone innocent.

Ivan looked down at the golden lock and those dark blue eyes. "You cannot understand," he said with a smirk, "You have never felt a cause overwhelm your core." Ivan brought his hand up innocently and touched America's chest, "You believe you are thinking with your heart and for that reason you act in a way you never predicted." He paused, his hand lingering there as his smile finally drifted off his face. Ivan thoughts wandered to his own moments. Sadness loomed over him. "You could even kill your own people because of the heart," he said the last part softly. The gun in hand as he aimed and fired. The sounds of screaming from below. Men, women, and children all staining the snow with blood outside the palace.

"No!" America said pushing Ivan's hand away and causing Ivan's eyes to focus back down on him. "There is no excuse. Something like this will not happen again. Never again! There will be no more mass murdering for pointless reasons. I won't allow it. I won't allow anyone to do it," he said with a fierce look. Ivan almost wanted to believe. He couldn't.

He smiled, "You will see. It is only a matter of time."

"No, you can trust me. Never again will innocent people die if I'm on watch."

Three and half months later America dropped an Atomic Bomb on Japan.

"Trust you, why would I do that, Amerika?" he asked as he leaned his elbow on top of the table.

"Jesus Christ Russia, it's not like were in the Cold War anymore," he heard the American say dramatically over the phone. "I mean we did uh…no, I mean, uh, stop being paranoid, bro. We will pay our interest," he heard America let out a light awkward laugh over the phone.

The laugh actually caused Russia to show a true smile. Was America embarrassed or nervous? Ivan leaned his face into his hand, as he closed his eyes. He wished he could see America at this moment. "Paranoid, nyet. I am merely being logical. Words hold no monetary value after all. If there was something to make me a hundred percent sure you will not default, I would feel much more comfortable," he responded, a sly smirk appearing on his face. He knew he invested into America for a reason.

"What? It's not like I'm lying," America gripped over the phone.

"Possibly, but our history has not been one of honesty, da?" he stated, his mind imagining the image of America pacing and getting flustered. America was never one not to have control over a situation. It must be so difficult to be out of his element.

"Okay, okay, so we have lied before. I am not now!" America shouted into his ear.

The loud voice didn't even cause Ivan to flinch. "Possibly. I feel I need proof," Ivan said causally. His head leaned into his hand, almost innocently.

"Proof like what?" America asked stepping right into Ivan's palm.

Ivan felt like the door just opened for him. The influence he had been seeking was finally here. He didn't have to befriend the annoying man. He didn't have to seduce him. He didn't have to be nice. He just had to invest in his country and wait for America to fall. It appeared long term plans did give high returns. Hmm, now what did Ivan want from America…

He hadn't exactly thought this far ahead. He pulled his head off his hand as he sat up straighter. He looked at the window across the way with a quizzical expression. What did he want from America? He knew his boss had told him policy issues, but none of them were coming to the forefront of his mind. The only thing he found himself thinking about was the night he was left unsatisfied. America's hot lips wrapped around him. America tongue moving up and down.

He swallowed thickly. "What are you wearing, Amerika?" he asked, without his mind even catching up.

"Huh? I'm wearing a suit. What does that have to do with anything?" America answered.

Ivan rolled his eyes. The boy truly was a complete idiot. Would he even notice if he walked into a wall? "Nyet, what else are you wearing?" he asked, taking a quick glance at the door. Maybe, he shouldn't have broken the lock.

"Dude, why does it matter? Are you trying to get fashion tips? Well honestly, you probably need them. Your coat is completely out dated."

Ivan frowned. He finally had control and the idiotic buffoon wasn't even giving him the joy of the situation. He was giving him a headache instead. "I am getting proof, Amerika. Answer the questions, da," he stated, rubbing his hand through his hair.

The line went silent. It went on for almost a minute, and Ivan found himself opening his eyes at the lack of response only to be greeted by America's raging voice again. "You're kidding? You have to be kidding!"

"Nyet, what are you wearing Amerika," he repeated, with a sly smirk. Finally. It had taken too long, but America finally understood.

"I can't believe you're doing this. This has nothing to do with proof," America protested.

"All you have to do is answer honestly," Ivan said in a higher pitch voice. He felt a bit giddy.

"You know you're sick," America said in a disgruntle huff before letting out a resigned sigh, "I am wearing a dark blue suit with a thin black tie, white button down, fancy shoes from somewhere, of course texas, and yeah that's about it. We done with this?"

"Nyet, what else?" he continued with a taunting smirk. He imagined how irritated the boy probably was at the moment. He was probably making that scowling look. Ivan found himself leaning farther back in the chair as the image danced in his head.

He heard some soft sounds of cussing before America continued, "I have some Superman boxers on."

Ivan smile only grew wider. He would have teased the man for such an immature action, but he was far too focus on something else. "Ah, and where is this hero placed on the boxers?" he asked sweetly.

America went silent before whispering harshly over the phone, "You can't expect me to say that here. I'm in public."

"Simple questions, Amerika, but if I can't trust you to answers these then how can I believe your other words," he answered and was greeted with more quiet cursing from the other end.

"Itsovermydick," America said quickly and quietly.

"I apologize, I am afraid I didn't hear you," he said feeling a heated feeling settling deep in him.

"It's over my dick, okay!" America shouted before hushing himself in a hurry.

"Oh. You mustn't speak so softly, Amerika." He heard an annoyed groan in response. This was far too much fun. "Where is the hero's hand? Is it fisted at the tip of your penis?" he said a bit deeper than he meant to. He could see America sitting in some public area. His eyes dancing like a scared cat all over the place. He could see the uncomfortable shifts in his body.

"No," America answered quietly, "That only happens when…" The words hung there like a wonderful ambiance.

Ivan felt his eyes close as his head leaned back on the chair. His mind was no longer in this small room. It had drifted to the red flush on America's cheeks. The image was hardly ever seen on the boy, the insecurities, the uncertainties, and the tinge of embarrassment.

"When a firm hand is pressed against you," his husky voice continued the statement, "It grips through the flimsy cloth and rubs the thumb along the slowly tightening muscle."

He heard a force cough and clothes shifting. "Russia," America said in a deeper voice, "What are you doing?" The voice caused Ivan to let out a deep settling breath. Hearing America speak to him in the mixture of lust and embarrassment was far too intoxicating. Ivan felt his own hand moving to his pants.

"Nyet? You prefer teasing perhaps? A finger crawling along the edge of the cloth. It gracefully touching the skin along your hipbone before inching under the fabric. It dips lower along your inward thigh, slowly moving. It never touches. It just gets closer and closer. The temperature being the only feeling," Ivan said slowly as he undid his belt with his eyes close. He felt his own length pushing against his pants, wanting escape.

He heard an agitated noise that sounded something between a groan and a moan. "Stop this," America protested in a weak voice.

"Da, that is too slow for impatient Amerika," he answered, his own hand dipping under his underwear to grip his own. America's voice was pitiful weakness…Ivan desperately wanted to see it. "You would want to be taken immediately. In the mouth at first? The lips wrapping around you. They press tightly as they slowly go down to hit the base. The tongue rubbing the new skin as it appears. With circular movement, it caressing. The lips move away and the contradiction between the cool air and the hot mouth bring on another feeling," Ivan found himself repeating the very feeling America had given him. His hand not nearly comparing to how amazing the boy's mouth had been. Ivan bit his lip to hold back any possible noise.

"Where are you?" America's voice said in a rush.

The need in his voice caused Ivan to grip himself tighter. "Brussels," he responded.

America cursed. "I can't believe this. Why fuck are you doing this if your so far away?" America mumbled out irritated.

Ivan found himself smirking. "Take a picture and then I'll inform my government of the interest payment," he stated, though his focus was hardly there. His head holding the cell phone between his shoulder and his ear. His hand had wandered downwards.

"Of what?" America said with the same strain in his voice.

"Of the hero, Amerika," he said in a whisper, "I will speak to you later. Goodbye."

"What? I am in pub-" Ivan snapped his phone shut.

Alfred sat on the park bench with a gapping mouth. He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it with utter shock. Was he being serious? Why in the world was Russia acting like this? It seemed out of character….and god his pants were feeling uncomfortably tight. His eyes immediately shot to the others in the park: few men in suits, one homeless woman talking to the pigeon, and a tourist family. He can't expect this of him. He can't expect him to actually take a picture.

Alfred gritted his teeth in frustration. He would probably use it as blackmail…but if he didn't then….Clinton was going to yell at him.

Damn it.

He pulled his backpack up from the ground and moved his laptop to the side. He would admit that a part of him was finding this semi hot. His cheek felt flush, and a heat had settled low in him. His hand even was shaken a bit from anticipation. This was so bad. He was actually going to do this.

No. No.

He made sure his bag was covering the majority of his lap from the public. What if one of the staff from the White House caught him? What if they told his boss? Shit.

He bit his bottom lip, and moved his hand to his pants button. It lingered there for a moment, as his eyes shot up again. No one was walking towards him. He was in the clear. He could do this. He was America. He could do anything.

He unbuttoned his pants and quickly unzipped them. Luckily his boxers managed to contain him in, but a dominant tent appeared. Alfred's breath had gotten very heavy causing his hand to even stumble with his phone. He was going to get caught? He was totally going to get caught. The time it took to get to his camera on his phone seemed to take forever. Every second was just another moment from total embarrassment. The camera finally appeared, and he clicked snap of his boxers.

As his finger pressed it he felt prepared to be yelled at, but when he heard nothing he released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He dropped his phone quickly on the bench and forced himself back in, causing the backpack on his leg to shift and move. When he snapped his button through the hole, his shoulders finally relaxed. He ended up sighing and leaning into the bench. No one was near him. He did it. His hand went to his forehead, smoothing away the tension. He still felt uncomfortable in his pants, but that pain was far better then the pure shame of being caught. He smirked to himself. He couldn't believe actually did that!

He then let out a laugh. Russia, you are absolutely ridiculous.

His hand fell from his head, and he sorted through his contacts to Russia's. He then attached the picture to the text.

You know it's called a playboy, he texted the snarky response under it, then clicked send.

Done. Russia was in the clear. He had gone through half of the calls. Next was China…well it couldn't be worst then that call.

He put his bag back on the ground, stretching out his legs to get rid of the uncomfortable tightness. It didn't help. Great. Just great. He was in need of another cold shower.

Well the best option now was to just finish the calls and get home. How many more exactly were on the list. He picked up his laptop again. It came to life as his finger drifted along the mouse pad.

…..no

Alfred's mouth dropped and his eyes widened in utter horror.

No.

No.

No.

That entire call had been listened to and recorded by the CIA.

Fuck.


	16. Chapter 16

_a/n: Sorry all this is super short! I plan to write a nice long chapter later this week, but I wanted to give you something as a present. But admittedly I am about to fall asleep right now or I would respond to all reviewers personally, which btw i love your reviews. I love hearing about the lines you fine funny ^^ I didn't think I was really much a funny writer, but by some miracle I am making you guys laugh. I love that! I mean that's a huge part of hetalia is the hilarious factor of it, so I try hard to have it in here. Thanks so much! PS There will be a phone call with China, it is in a flashback in the next chapter. China will also have a MUCH larger role in the future of this story, so all those Ruschina fans, I promise you will get it. _

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><p>The cab stopped in front of a large house, at least larger then any of his own homes. His brown eyes lingered on the familiar home for a moment. America had so many homes, but this home was the one that he had been to on many occasions. He turned his head to the taxi driver and quickly held out the cash. He bowed his head respectfully, "Thank you," he said quietly, feeling the money leave his hands. He then opened up the door and pulled out his small carry on. It was filled with the latest videogames his people had developed. He thought America would enjoy them. It had been so long since he had played with America that he had quite a bit of games to go through. He assumed that was why America had been so flustered and demanding on the phone. America's budget problems held little worry to Japan, but America's strange behavior and intensively suggesting that he come over, not tomorrow but today, seemed quite odd. The western countries always were odd.<p>

Kiku rolled his small bag towards America's front door. His eyes fell nervously to the ground. It had certainly been months since the two of them had hung out, and as always Kiku felt slight flutter in his chest. There friendship had yet to evolve into a relationship, but there certainly had been a few kisses here and there. Japan felt the fluttering his chest worsen as he stepped up the stairs to the patio. He wondered if the rumors were true. Did America really do something with Russia at the party? Kiku had saw the kiss. He had been walking to the bathroom when he saw America pushing Russia into the elevator in drunken slobber. Kiku anger had taken over and he quickly and quietly found England. Russia was taking advantage of poor America when he was drunk. Kiku had done the right thing.

He brought his hand up and knocked softly on the door. He then brought his hand back down to his side and waited patiently. He did hope that America was not mad for his interference. It wasn't in Kiku's nature to interfere in other's affairs, but…Russia. Japan hated Russia.

The door swung open to reveal a black figure. (Black figure equals a man dressed in full tight black tight leather cat suit almost similar to the one in American Horror Story). Kiku eyes widened and mouth opened then closed in bewilderment. He then felt himself begin to fidget uncomfortably as his eyes darted in confusion around the form.

The figure's hand pulled off the black mask it was wearing to reveal a disheveled blonde with a huge grin. "Yo Kiku, you're finally here! We can get started on operation Indiana Jones Style!" America said yanking him into the house. America then peered his head outside. He looked left then right then left again before shutting the door. As soon as the door shut, Kiku was surrounded by darkness. He blinked trying to understand his bearings and find America's location.

"I apologize, America-san, but I do not understand what we are doing," Kiku said cautiously.

A large hand slammed onto his back. "Kiku for the thousandth time! Call me Alfred or Al or Allie….I mean no not Allie, that's a chick's name, but you don't have to call me America," the loud voice echoed as Kiku was pushed in the direction he remembered being the living room.

"I apologize, Alfred-san," he said softly as America opened the door to the living room. Once again, Kiku was surprised. The living room had completely changed from the months he had been there. It used to be filled with a large screen television, coffee table and couches. Now, the room was replaced with a single light bulb that swung ominously back and forth in the room like one of America's old detective movies. The light bulb provided little light so the corners stayed dark. As the light bulb swung near the walls, it lit up floor plans, ventilation systems, the three computer monitors, two black duffle bags, and a tall table that had multiple gadgets being put together. It was a drastic change in only a few months. (If Japan had been there the day before, he would have known that the remodel of the living room took place only five hours ago).

"What? Dude, why you apologizing? Seriously, ya gotta relax," America said friendly, and Kiku felt America's hand begin to rub his shoulders, "You feel tense."

Kiku's heart started to flutter again. America was such a kind man. He was very confusing, but Kiku knew every action he took was out of kindness. "I am f-fine, Amer-Alfred-san," he responded, "I am only confused because I had thought we were playing the new demos."

America jumped in front of him with a large grin and hand in his hair. "Dude, you brought those! That's freakin awesome!" Alfred shouted, but then his grin was wiped off his face and he stood taller. "We can't play though. Not tonight," he said a bit serious, though how serious can a man be in a black cat suit.

Kiku stared at the man curiously as he watched America go up to one of the floor plans on the wall. America's back was towards him, and Kiku couldn't help his eyes from wandering downward. The suit was just…tight. (I must censor this part out because his mind went to a strange anime porno). Kiku blinked out of his nasty state and blushed. His eyes fell to the floor again. "Alfred-san, what are we doing?" he asked once more.

"Oh!" he heard America say and the sound of his black boots against the wood floor as he turned to face him. "We are just retrieving something of mine," America informed him, but Kiku caught the weird awkwardness in America's voice. America was not one to ever feel awkward and for that reason Kiku's eyes pulled themselves back up to America's face.

"Why are you wearing a cat suit?" Kiku asked blankly as if this question is asked every day.

America let out a laugh as his hand went to his blond hair. "I told ya, Kiku. If ya gonna play secret super spies you have to dress the part!"

"I apologize," Kiku said immediately, "I did not know American spies wore black cat suits." Yes, the western world was very strange. Then a more frightening thought came to mind. "Am I to wear one too?" he asked, his eyes widening a bit.

America laughed again. The laughter calmed him instantly. "Dude, no. You gotta wear your awesome ninja outfit," America said as he came up and pat the smaller man on the shoulders. "I called you because I need your help," the full grin turned into a sincere smile as his tone became serious, "You are the only man I know who can basically appear out of thin air. I need your mad skills to help me sneak into somewhere to retrieve an item."

Kiku pursed his lips ever so barely. The compliment was quite pleasant, but he was uncertain of America's plans. "Where is your item located?" he asked hoping it was merely cookies from his next-door neighbor. They had done that once before.

America gave a causal shrug before turning back and ripping the floor plan off the wall. With the little light and America's figure blocking the way, Kiku had not been able to read the title. As America held up the floor plan allowing Kiku to read it, Kiku's mouth opened like a dying fish. "It's no big, just the CIA headquarters. We should be in and out in a jiffy cause I got to catch a flight to Libya tomorrow morning," the words came so causally out of America's mouth that Kiku almost thought he misheard him.

"I am quite sorry. Alfred-san did you say the CIA headquarters?"

"Yeah dude. Where else would top secret stuff be?" America laughter echoed through the room and around Kiku.

Oh dear…


	17. Chapter 17

a/n: Gezz, don't know what's up with fanfic. I finished this chapter three days ago, but I couldn't post it because fanfic wouldn't let me long on. Anyways, I'm sorry again! Writers block killed me. Curious, as always, I must thank you for the awesome reviews and also for your messages with recent news about Russia. I'm not sure if I'm going to put it in or not, but it certainly gets my brain turning which is necessary for me to write. Also, thank you Silvertrain for constantly following my stories. Your reviews always make me smile ^^ So after the long wait, here's the next chapter.

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><p>Alfred pressed his body against the building. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked from one side to another. His spandex cat suit that he had on gave him wonderful freedom that slacks and jeans could never give, so he felt extremely flexible and ready to pounce on any possible camera. He had to get that tape wiped from the system before his Boss heard about it….or worse…it was hacked into by China. He would never live down that embarrassment. He just had to break into the CIA headquarters, which Alfred knew like the back of his hand. He also knew that his men in the CIA were some of the most intelligent men in his country. If he was caught…they would certainly turn him over to the big man.<p>

It was for that reason that Alfred felt his heart beating like a racehorse.

"Alfred-san, are you quite certain that it would not be a better option just to speak to your people?" Kiku asked quietly from the shadows. Alfred's head snapped to the voice. Admittedly, Kiku in ninja gear was pretty much a normal guy in invisible armor. Alfred had no idea where he was in the shadows. He blended so well.

"No way," he said in a loud whisper and shook his head. "I got my awesome honor on the line, Kiku," Alfred commented as he reached his hand into his black duffle bag. Kiku was being totally cool with all this. It was why he asked for his help in the first place. He didn't pry into other's business and stayed respectful to everyone. He also was a great friend. However…Alfred did remember Iggy's comment. Japan had told him. It was so unlike Kiku to gossip.

Kiku didn't respond, but Alfred assumed he must have nodded. Dude totally was like some ghost. He shivered at the thought as he pulled out a grabbling hook. Alfred's eyes moved to the top of the building. He had to be careful with his aim because there were sensors and cameras. He began to swing the rope to create more momentum with the hook on the end. He then threw towards the top of the roof. Countries might like to accuse America of being dim and idiotic, but anything with uncover spy and military work was like eating cake. He waited a moment once the hook had reached the roof. He then slowly started to tug the rope back until it went stiff. Perfect. He zipped up the duffle bag then threw it over his shoulder. "Make sure you avoid stepping near the windows. They have sensors on them," he commented in a serious tone that was unlike his normal go-lucky self. He gripped the rope then took a step onto the roof. He then started to pull himself up.

Kiku watched silently from the shadows. It always surprised him how paranoid America really was at times. It was good thing America-san had warned him because he usually used windows to scale buildings. He waited until he was farther along before pulling himself out of the shadows and moving to the rope. His samurai sword tied at his waist moved elegantly as he scaled the wall. He still did not understand why America-san wanted to break into his own information center. America-san could be quite confusing at times, but Kiku actually liked that about the man. Kiku followed strict codes and rules. America seemed to follow none. It felt like Kiku was admiring a flame on a candle. He wanted so greatly to touch it, but feared it might burn his hand.

Alfred stopped when he reached the top. "Hold on a sec, Kiku," he said quietly as he reached into the belt he had around his black cat suit. His strength easily allowed him to hold up his weight with one hand. He pulled out his iphone. He had to be within fifteen feet of the electrical systems for this to work. He opened up the app that the CIA had installed in his phone. It was a new program design to shut down all electronic through some type of radio wave. He was supposed to use it against enemies, but hey, this is a time of crisis. He touched the screen and watched the timer appear. They had a minute.

"Got sixty seconds," he said before throwing the duffle bag onto the roof before pulling himself up. When he landed on the ground and picked up the bag, Kiku was right behind him. Alfred pulled out his pocketknife and cut the rope. It fell to the ground as he picked up the hook. He then hurried to the door. It was one of the many escape doors in the building that was locked unless a code was entered. With everything within his radius shut down, he easily pulled it opened. He started down the stairs in a hurry. The CIA would notice that their tech was down in the area, and men would be sent on the scene soon. He wanted to get away from the area and closer to his destination. He couldn't even hear Kiku behind him. The man was silent. He counted the floors as he went. They weren't labeled for security reasons, but Alfred knew the floor he wanted. When they had run down five flights of stairs he went to the door. He opened it slowly to see if anyone was out there. Good. He was clear. It was the middle of the night, so they would have less men on the premises. He opened the door into the hallway and went towards the door right next to them. He pressed the code quickly then swung it open.

Kiku followed right behind as they walked into a large room with tons of computer screens. Kiku was very confused. "Why is there no one here, Alfred-san?" he asked as Alfred threw down his duffle.

"There is one man in this security room and when I shut down the tech on the roof," he left to inform his boss who is a few doors down," he said and as soon as the words left his mouth, they heard multiple foot steps and shouting heading to the stairwell. Alfred smirked. He knew his men. "K, I need you to hack into this and feed a repetitive stream on the cameras," he commented, "I don't want them catchin' where I'm going."

Kiku nodded obediently. He was slightly in awe with everything Alfred was doing. He also didn't want to disappoint him. He moved over to the computers and why his mind was still in confusion, he immediately centered it. Kiku knew computers. They had become a continuous constant in his life. They provided him with entertainment and knowledge of the world he had closed off for so long. He wondered if Alfred felt the same. They both were isolated, and now they both led the Internet into globalization. His hands started to move along the keyboard and mouse. It was simple since the man had left his account open.

Alfred opened up the duffle again and pulled out two suits: a larger one and a smaller one. He pulled off his black mask then started stripping off the cat suit.

"Completed," Kiku said softly before turning around.

He gulped.

A full view of America-san's bare back came into sight. He watched as the man's shoulder blade moved under his beautiful tan skin as the black suit continued to slide off his body. A blush crossed Kiku's face and forced his eyes to the ground. It didn't stop him from catching a glance of the American flag underwear.

"Awesome dude!" Alfred said. Kiku always knew his stuff. He reached down and picked up the smaller black suit. "Here, ya gotta put that on," he said causally as he threw it to the man. Why was Kiku looking at the floor? Well whatever, he still manage to catch the clothes.

He stepped out of the last of cat suit and grabbed his slacks. He heard the cross and dog tags clink together as he did a weird jumping thing to get his pants on.

"Uh, here?" Kiku asked quietly.

Alfred chuckled, "Yeah dude, we don't have time to find a bathroom." He didn't know why Kiku was acting so weird. They had seen each other naked before. A quick change was nothing, but Kiku was a bit more proper then him.

Kiku looked at the clothes in his hand then up at Alfred then back at the clothes. He nodded. Alfred grinned then turned around to grab his white button down. When he turned back around Kiku was fully dressed in a suit.

…uh how? A contorted expression appeared on Alfred's face before it released into a full grin and laughter. He really was a ninja. "Gezz, now I feel like I'm slow," he commented as he buttoned his shirt as fast as he cold. He grabbed the black tie and threw it around his neck. Kiku moved gracefully by him with his ninja gear collected. He then placed it into the duffle bag folded and neat. He then took Alfred's cat suit. Alfred didn't notice, but Kiku was shaking as he folded it and placed it in the bag. When Alfred had finished his tie, Kiku had everything in the bag. Alfred threw on his black suit jacket, pulled out his two IDs. He clipped his on his jacket then clipped the other one on Kiku's. He grabbed the duffle and put the strap over his shoulder. "Cool, let's get out of here," Alfred said with a smile before opening the door. With no cameras watching them, the CIA would never be able to quite determine that person in black. He also chose this side of the building and this floor because he knew the room he was looking for was here.

The CIA kept a section of the building completely focus on the personification of countries. The threat level determined the amount of space given to them. Because of his history with the Cold War, Russia used to have three floors. Many of the files though had been moved into archives, but he still took up the majority of this floor. He was focus on finding that tape though, and while it did involve America, it also involved Russia's personal life. If it were sorted correctly, it would most likely go into that room to later be looked at by the top officials the next day.

Not if America had anything to say about that.

He walked to the door and pressed in the code. He opened up the door to stacks and stacks of files and a small desktop computer. The recording would be a small disk that was somewhere in this room. "Shit," he muttered to himself. He forgot how much stuff they kept in here.

Kiku shut the door quietly behind them. "What are we looking for, Alfred-san," Kiku whispered. He had never been allowed in the CIA headquarters, and he certainly had no idea what Alfred was so obsess with to come here. He didn't quite like it though. Something itched at his skin.

"A disk, should be bout the size of my palm," he said in annoyance, "It will be the newest thing in here, and it will be labeled America something. I think we have about thirty minutes before getting out of here becomes difficult." Alfred walked to the edge of the stack. He plucked out a folder and opened it.

There were pictures of Ivan making a snowman by himself. He would have closed it immediately if he hadn't of saw the last two pictures. One with Ivan staring at the snowman with such sadness in his eyes and the other with him kicking it down. Alfred blinked. He felt a squeeze around his heart.

His hands closed the folder, and he put it back where he found it. Gezz, this was going to be harder then he thought.

He took a deep breath as he brought his fingers to the folders. They were labeled alphabetically by….countries? Strange. He finally noticed that at the small little signs that had names of countries. He was looking in the R section so there must just be pictures and information of Russia by himself. Well that's good news. Maybe, it wouldn't take as long as he thought.

"Alfred-san, your name is not on here," Kiku called from behind him. Alfred turned around to see Kiku looking up at the shelves where the beginning of the alphabet started. He was always one step ahead of him.

"There has to be something," Alfred said in a somewhat desperate voice. It had to be here, but when he moved to Kiku, he noticed the entire wall of shelves Kiku was looking at was labeled China.

What the-

"I don't see your name, but I will search, Alfred-san," Kiku bowed and then started to dig through files.

Alfred stood there in awe. Russia had that amount of personal history with Yao? He knew they were allies, but….he never suspected this. He plucked a random file for his own curiosity. He opened it to see old letters. He glanced at the date 1950 and noticed the translation his men had already made.

_Dear Yao,_

_I must admit I was frightened to speak with you alone. Not because of power or politics, but because you are one of the few who truly understands. In my youth, you taught me the pain of this land and the responsibilities I must come to terms with. Without you in my life, I feel I would have lost myself long ago. You are a recurring flower that blooms every year. I am afraid that if I am too quick to pluck it, it will never bloom again. I apologize for my behavior. I just noticed your love for those furry creatures and hoped that if I were to become a panda as well that your love would be shown to me. I was not attempting to spy. _

_Love,_

_Ivan Braginski_

Alfred's eyes glazed over the letter, and he felt his mouth becoming dry. He had never once heard Russia say truly kind genuine words to another human being. There was always something hidden between the lines. He couldn't help himself, he read the letter underneath it.

_Ivan,_

_You. _

_You are a strange man._

_I can no longer determine if you are merely naïve or beyond my own intelligence. If you halt with the strange behavior, I will consider meeting you on a purely personal matter._

_Yao_

Alfred felt his hand grip tightly into the folder. Why was he getting angry? This was over fifty years ago. He closed the folder shut and put it back on the shelf. It's not like they had that type of relationship now….right? He moved across the files and went to the newest ones. He pulled out a folder and opened it. It was a printed Skype chat between them. It was dated…

July 5, 2011

_Vodka1992: Hello Yao_

_DragonBeijing1949: Ivan, you disappeared at the American's birthday._

_Vodka1992: Ah yes, I was distracted._

_DragonBeijing1949: You have been distracted for a while. I have heard very little from you. _

_Vodka1992: I'm afraid my boss has been persistent over my relationship with America. _

_DragonBeijing1949: Relationship? I did not realize you were seeing the young child._

_Vodka1992: No. I am not. I am supposed to become friendly with him._

_DragonBeijing1949: That is quite humorous. I must thank you again for stepping in last night._

_Vodka1992: You do not have to thank me. As normal, the brat had no consideration for his elders. How is Taiwan doing?_

_DragonBeijing1949: A handful like always. I feel none of them listen to me anymore._

_Vodka1992: They are young._

_DragonBeijing1949: Yes, but still, I miss the old days._

_Vodka1992: Agree. You certainly felt like my southern star in those days._

_DragonBeijing1949: ….I am not now?_

_Vodka1992: No, now you are my sunflower. : )_

_DragonBeijing1949: You are quite silly, Ivan._

_Vodka1992: You are certainly the only one to ever think such a thought._

_DragonBeijing1949: Probably, but it is true. Do you remember when you hid in my closet dressed as a Geisha?_

_Vodka1992: Yes, I felt quite embarrassed that I mixed up the cultures. It also explains why everyone was staring at me as I walked to your house._

_DragonBeijing1949: Could it not be because you are a man dressed in woman wear?_

_Vodka1992: I thought I looked stunning so that couldn't be the case. : )_

_DragonBeijing1949: Silly. Silly. I must admit, I believe I miss you, Ivan. You have changed since under the red flag._

_Vodka1992: Changed? I am just far more alone._

_DragonBeijing1949: You do not have to be. When we have space in our business affairs we should see each other. _

_Vodka1992: I would quite love that._

_DragonBeijing1949: I will be in touch then. I must be off now. It appears Hong Kong is trying to go behind my back once again. Capitalism will be the death of me._

_Vodka1992: Hehe. Good luck._

Alfred hand gripped the paper so tight that the entire folder ripped. His jaw was locked as his blue eyes glared at it. China and Russia were getting cozy again. He thought their relationship had strained at some point in the sixties and hadn't really fixed itself. He knew they were 'friends' now, but he thought it was only over mutual hatred of him. He also was furious at Russia. No relationship? This is the day after they almost slept with each other. Did it really mean nothing to him? Of course it didn't! He knew that…why did he even consider that it did?

"Alfred-san," Kiku spoke pulling Alfred out of his mental freak out, "Why is everything about Russia?"

Alfred felt his face become heated at the question. He shut the folder with force before slamming it onto the shelf. He then turned to Kiku who was looking through some folders with a disgusted look on his face. Alfred's face became more blushed. How could he explain this to Kiku? I had some weird type of phone sex with Russia…

"Russia tricked me," Alfred whined before rubbing his hand through his hair. He didn't exactly know what to say or how to feel at this moment. He didn't like Russia. He had no interest in the man, so why did he feel rejected and used.

Kiku stopped shifting the folders. His eyes moved from them to Alfred. He had never seen Alfred look so…vulnerable. Those blue eyes were always confident. He certainly did not like this, and he knew it was Russia's fault. He had seen the America and Russia in the elevator. He knew it had been a bad idea. He should have stepped up and stopped it. He did the dishonorable thing and allowed England to fight his battles.

Kiku dropped the folder on the ground, not particularly caring for it. His shoulder straight, his body stiff, he looked Alfred directly in the eyes. "Alfred-san, I will gladly step forward and take care of Russia," he said with pure honesty.

Alfred opened his eyes and looked down at the small Japanese man. He really was a good friend. Alfred gave a small smile. "Nah, Kiku. It's totally chill. I can handle it. Just frustrating sometimes, ya know," he said with a wave of his hand. He walked over to Kiku and placed his hand on the man's shoulder. He felt his stiffness relax under his touch. "Thanks though, you really are a friend," Alfred said with a smile as he watched the man's dark brown eyes stare at him in uncertainty. He hoped they'd always be friends.

Something silver caught his peripherals, and his eyes turned towards it. Sitting next to the computer was a silver disk. Alfred's eyes widened, and he moved passed Kiku in a hurry.

"Alfred-san?"

Alfred reached for the disk. As he suspected, it was labeled his name in black marker. Since America didn't have a section in the room, they must have just placed it on the desk to be dealt with later. "Yes! Yes!" Alfred chanted as he did a little hop and a skip in place.

Kiku watched the America dancing in place and the weird motion of his body. In only a snap, he was back to his happy self. Russia had done something though…something that had made America upset….something to do with that kiss.

"Let's get out of here, and celebrate with an playin' those demos and a Mcflurry!" Alfred shouted as he broke the disk in half and stuffed it in his pocket.

Kiku nodded and followed silently after Alfred. His eyes lingered around the files around him. America-san does not want me to interfere, but I will not allow you to hurt him, Russia, he thought coldly before shutting that horrid room behind him.

You do not deserve him.


End file.
